


to the star walker amongst us, we send our love (thank you for your service)

by tomas_abe



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, Slight Violence, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Some Use of Social Media, Some angst, but most importantly: family and friendship and community, for real- everyone will show up at some point or another
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomas_abe/pseuds/tomas_abe
Summary: The end, like every important event in recent memory, is marked by a series of tweets.





	1. And so, with a Start, it Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Had this ready since monday but a friend convinced me to wait till the episode died down a bit.  
> Let me know what you think.  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://tomas-abe.tumblr.com/)

The end, like every important event in recent memory, is marked by a series of tweets.

  


  


* * *

**Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
So… timeline. Feb19-March4: multiple registered-ETs abducted. Public unaware. Police uninvolved. No word from feds. Zero media coverage 1/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar4: Supergirl seen flying into @CatCo building. No word from CatCo 2/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar4: @KaraZeDanvers of @CatCoMag posts on own website SG quote about reg-ET abductions, CADMUS responsible. No word from feds or CatCo 3/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar5: Supergirl very visibly stops alien ship. No word from feds or NCPD. No word from CatCo. 4/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar6: NCPD reports say Supergirl was saving aliens from… rather extreme form of deportation 5/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar6: Article about events published, but deep in @NCTribune (owned by @CatCo). No Supergirl quote in article. 6/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar7: No follow up story/statement on events from feds, NCPD, or CatCo. PR nightmare for all. @KaraZeDanvers, who wrote OG post, quiet 7/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Mar7: Rumor 1- @CatCo  & feds approached by SG but refused to warn other reg-ETs. Rumor 2- @KaraZeDanvers fired for not toeing party line 8/9

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
So… @NCPD, @CatCo, @CatCoMag, @NCTribune… [‘what’s the truth?’ Oprah GIF] 9/9

 **CatCo Spotlight Team** @CatCoSpotlight  
@shipsnbuns No great conspiracy. No word because unverified, unsubstantiated, and unconfirmed rumors are not news

 **National City PD** @NCPD  
@shipsnbuns We only knew of events as we responded to them. Supergirl never approached us

 **Jon (da Man) Nguyen** @alienmenace334  
@CatCoSpotlight LOL just say you were fucking cowards

 **Priyanka Bhatta** @princessbhee  
@NCPD glad to see the great police work of our city in action

 **Priyanka Bhatta** @princessbhee  
@NCPD P.S. that was sarcasm. Also pls hire a better PR person b4 internet eats u alive

 **Elise Hu** @shipsnbuns  
Wow. The PR nightmare continues. On the other hand… props to @KaraZeDanvers for trying to do the right thing. 

  


Oblivious to the twitter thread bookending the end of her career, Kara Danvers grabs her box of belongings, avoids everyone’s eyes, and walks out of CatCo with her head hung low.

  


* * *

 

Humans have an expression, ‘endings are really just new beginnings’.

In Kara’s experience, endings mean a planet’s destruction, so she doesn’t put much stock on the phrase. 

And yet… a sliver of hope remains.

  


* * *

It’s the hard bass of her neighbor’s music what wakes her. 

Kara feels the vibrations pulse through the floor, along her walls. Feels the way her bedframe moves minutely, in time with the beat. The bass builds and builds until it seems like her entire room is shaking to its sound. 

As if taking her startled state as invitation, the rest of the world begins to seep into her ears as well. 

She hears the thrumming pulse of the grad student below as it races on, accelerated by caffeine and the furious guitar of the rock song currently assaulting Kara’s senses. She hears the clanging pots of someone cooking a floor up. Hears a mother screaming at her kids to not forget their lunches. Hears the _pitter-patter_ of a rat scurrying behind plaster and the rush of traffic outside and hundreds of overlapping heartbeats as people go through their routines. 

National City on Wednesday mornings is a cacophony of sounds teeming with life. 

And although some days Kara loves it, today the stimuli is so overwhelming she has to press her palms tightly on top of her ears, covering them. 

Not that it helps. If anything, it just causes the vibrations to travel up the bones of her arms, her fingers, her jaw, her skull. Until the pounding reverberates throughout her entire being. 

Kara curls up into a ball and sobs. 

(It’s not as if she has a job to be at anyways)

  


* * *

 

Somehow, Kara manages to leave her apartment half an hour before she has to meet her sister for their weekly lunch. 

She still feels a little undone, as if every nerve ending in her skin has become extra sensitive. The sensation makes her body feel awkward and lumbering and ready to recoil at the slightest touch.

It’s mildly distressing but she’ll see Alex in a couple of minutes and they’ll talk about their weeks and she’ll be better.

(Rao please let her feel better)

The jingling bell that announces her entrance to Chairo’s Bakery brings a horrible coppery taste to the inside of her mouth that makes her pause for a second. Thankfully, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread offsets it quickly. Kara grins and, stomach rumbling, heads to the front counter, which still smells faintly of the chlorine used to disinfect it.

The doors leading to the kitchen open just as she reaches the counter, revealing a tall girl in the light blue polo all the bakery employees wear. Her entrance is followed by the spicy scent of cinnamon and a puff of air that warms the rest of the room. 

Kara stares in amusement as the girl struggles to remove her flour-stained apron by pulling it over her head. It takes a few tugs with long coltish limbs before the cloth is finally removed. Now free, the girl looks up, ready to greet Kara with a customer service smile firmly in place. 

Kara beats her to it.

“Hey Freema,” she says, accompanying the words with a jerky wiggling of her right hand.  

Freema’s practiced smile grows sincere. 

“Kara! Haven’t seen you in a while! What can I get you?” she asks brightly, moving to lean an elbow against the glass display next to the register. Unfortunately, she misses by a few inches, causing her to pitch sideways towards the floor. 

Lucky for her, Kara is very _very_ fast. 

In the blink of an eye, Kara lunges forwards and hooks her hand on the crook of Freema’s elbow, tugging lightly to right the girl before she falls. 

“Woah! Thanks,” she says after a moment, realizing she’s still upright. “Good save.”

“Glad to see I’m not the clumsiest person in the room anymore,” Kara responds, tone teasing. Freema chuckles and tugs on a strand of bushy hair in embarrassment. “Did you grow a couple of inches in the month I haven’t been around?”

“Ugh. It’s terrible Kara. I’m so angry. Who the hell goes through a growth spurt at nineteen? Who Kara? Who?” she asks dramatically.

“Mmmm… didn’t David Robinson go from like 6’6 to 7 feet in college?” Kara replies, as innocently as she can. Freema’s face creases in disgruntlement.

“Ugh. You’re the worst. I was going to apologize for all the times I’ve teased you because of your clumsiness y’know. But now, I won’t.”

“Because I’m the worst?”

“Yes. The worsest ever.”  

They stare at each other with solemn gazes. At the three second mark Kara’s lips begin to tremble. Freema crosses her eyes and that’s all it takes. They descend into giggles.

“Ok, enough of that,” says Freema, trying to put on a more neutral expression. “Mr. Horowitz gave me free reign of the kitchen this morning and I made a rugelach with peach jam and dark chocolate chips. I think it’s pretty badass but would love to get your expert opinion.”

“Gosh, you know I’m always weak for-”

Kara’s phone goes off, vibrations rattling her hip and setting her teeth on edge. She sends an apologetic grimace at Freema, who waves her off, then carefully takes it out of her pocket.

It’s a text from Alex.

_4got I promised lunch w/Maggie 2day. Rainchk?_

The coppery taste returns.

_Sure! Tell Maggie I say hi! :D_

_K. Thx Kara. Luv u._

_Love you too!_

Her face must reflect her disappointment because, when she turns back to Freema, the girl is already extending a wrapped pastry towards her, face sympathetic.

“On the house,” she says softly, “and before you try to refuse, I would like to remind you that you’re pretty much single-handedly paying my college education in tips.”

“I-,” Freema glares, “thank you,” Kara replies, still a little despondent, before gently taking the pastry. It smells amazing, the jam fruity and tartar, the chocolate strong and sweet. There is a slight crunch as she tightens her hold of the flaky pastry. Kara can’t wait to try it.

Mood lifted slightly, she digs out her wallet, wanting to leave a tip. After all, college isn’t cheap.

Suddenly though, CatCo’s breaking news jingle catches her attention. She swivels her head towards the street, narrowing her hearing until she can hear a grim-sounding news anchor report on “torrential rains caused dangerous overflowing in northern Peru last night, we-” 

Kara shoves a twenty into the tip jar and rushes to the exit.

  


* * *

 

She enters Lima city limits in less than an hour. 

(Hypersonic speeds do have their benefits)

She’s just beginning to ponder who to approach about helping when she notices a banner hung on one of the taller buildings.

_Supergirl: go to tent in Avenida Benavides._

She locates the tent quickly and lands as softly as she can, so as to not damage the street. A man turns in her direction. Tall and tan, he walks up to Kara with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

“José Alvarez,” he says. 

“Supergirl,” Kara says as she shakes his hand gently, “I’m guessing the banner was yours?”

“Yes yes. We just put it up five minutes ago. You arrived much faster than expected,” he says, sounding a little awed. He recovers quickly though, leading her to the tent. He holds a flap open and gestures for her to go in.

“How did you know I was coming Mr. Alvarez?” Kara asks as she ducks inside.

“Please, José is fine,” he says. “And I didn’t. A friend in Mexico mentioned that you were seen headed south forty minutes ago. I had hope that it would be to help us.” 

The tent is busy, people in different uniforms walking around, talking into radios and moving files. At the center of it all, carefully pinned up on a corkboard, is a large map of the city and surrounding areas. Determination straightens her spine.

“What do you need me to do José?”

  


  


* * *

  


Kara is pushing a telephone pole upright when she hears it. A soft fluttery breath. She gently sets the pole back down and pulls in her hearing until the cacophony of shouting and sirens and floating debris fades away. Until she’s only listening to the going-ons of the surrounding three blocks. 

She hears the scurrying of cockroaches and the cracking of drying mud and, somewhere in the next block over-

a shallow breath.

Kara flies towards the sound as fast as she can, and instantly begins to shift rubble and dig through mud until the breathing becomes louder. She does a quick x-ray scan to get a better location and- the bones are small. Deciduous set of teeth still intact. 

It’s a kid. 

A slightly wider pelvis, so a girl. No screaming, so probably unconscious. Heart rate thankfully strong. 

Kara moves faster.

(She mentally goes through the dozens of names she had seen pinned to the hospital wall belonging to the missing. Narrows down the list by gender, age and last seen region. Girl, aged between six and eight, northeast Chosica. Luisa Godinez? Isabella Ayala? Anayanci Torres? 

A dozen other names rattle around her head.

Rao. The list is still too long)

Kara’s back muscles throb.

(She doesn’t know how long she’s been in Peru, helping search & rescue teams pull people out of the muddy water and wreckage caused by the catastrophic floods and landslides.

Long enough for her phone to run out of battery. Long enough to get used to the stink of gutter water, human sweat, and rotting perishables surrounding her. Long enough for Winn’s suit to be stuck to her skin due to the mud, the red of her family’s crest the only color visible besides brown and grey)

She reaches what might have been the roof of some house. Wherever it came from, the piece of metal is heavy. Her biceps tremble. Still she lifts higher until a thin arm becomes visible under the remaining muck and trash. 

Kara wipes splattered mud from her chest.

(Not even the worst amongst her people covered their crests. The only thing more blasphemous than denying your House was turning your back on Rao altogether)

She does another x-ray, checking more closely for breaks or bleeding. 

Nothing. 

Relieved, she clears the rest of the trash until she can see the entire girl. Swiftly, Kara grabs the board strapped to her back (which José had given her after she had dug out a second survivor with a neck injury). A third x-ray (just in case) shows no damage in the neck area or head. Still, Kara is careful in transferring the girl to the board. __

Once the girl is strapped in, Kara lifts as gently as she can, trying not to jostle her too much. She bends at the knees, pushes past tired muscles, past aching legs, and takes off into the air.

  


* * *

 

Someone in the hospital must have been keeping an eye out for her because, as soon as she lands, nurses swarm her, helping transfer the girl from the board to a stretcher. Kara lifts a trembling hand and places it on the girl’s sternum, thumb softly brushing a small chin. 

“May Rao protect you, lend you his strength, and bequeath unto you a life of warmth and light,” Kara whispers.  Then clears her throat. “I found her in Chosica. Huascar street,” she says, hoping the information can help identify the girl and, hopefully, reunite her with her family. 

“Thank you,” says one of nurses. The bags under her eyes match Kara’s but her small smile is bright, illuminated by that human light Kara strives so hard to protect. 

(Sometimes she imagines Rao burning brightly inside them. Seeing life, experiencing the wonder of human ingenuity and kindness, through their eyes. 

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. An alien girl’s desperate hopes that her god live beyond her.

It just doesn’t seem right for Rao’s vastness to be contained in her alone)

Kara smiles wearily at the shorter woman then straps the board to her back. With a last glance at the missing person’s wall by the hospital entrance, she flings herself to the air again, opening her senses. 

  


* * *

 

There isn’t a heartbeat. 

Nor can she hear breathing. Still she digs, trying to get to the figure she had seen in her x-ray vision, buried under a crumbling wall and a thick layer of muck. 

It may be too late for the person under the rubble but their family- they deserve closure. 

Remembering the procedure the local relief workers had asked her to follow when it came to bodies, Kara reaches for the radio one of the workers had strapped to her cape early on.

“This is Supergirl. I need a bag kit,” she says into the receiver.

The radio crackles with static for a second before-

“Por favor espera Supergirl, deja encuentro a José. Um, wait yes?” a light airy voice responds.

“Ok. I’ll wait,” she says as she uses her free hand to keep digging. After a moment of silence, the radio bursts back to life.

“Where are you?” José asks. Kara raises her head and looks around. She can’t see any street signs immediately and so focuses on the buildings, trying to see if there’s one distinctive enough to be of use.

“I don’t know the street but- um, I’m besides what maybe used to be a school? Colegio San Lorenzo.“ 

“Be there soon. You need water or something?”

“I’m good thank you.”

By the time the team of four arrive ten minutes later, Kara has uncovered the man. He looks young, thick dark hair plastered to his head, bright red blood coating the side of his face. He’s wearing a sports jacket and a tie that Cat Grant would have immediately fired him for. The _Diario El Comercio_ ID clipped to his belt gives him a name. Roberto Rodriguez. 

(Was he a reporter? Checking up on a tip? Meeting a source? Having lunch at a nearby bistro away from the crowded bullpen?)

She watches the workers cover Roberto with a bright blue tarp. As they lift the body, she feels a hand drop on her shoulder. It’s José. She smiles weakly at the man.

“We ran out of body bags earlier this morning,” José says softly, voice scratchy with grief. He rummages around the bag slung over his shoulder until he holds up a water bottle in triumph. He presses it onto her hand. “Drink please.”

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Kara finishes the bottle in three long pulls. She’s a little shocked by her thirst.

“You should go home Supergirl. Get some rest,” José says, concern pulling at his mouth. 

“What? No, its fine. There’s still a lot to do,” she replies. 

“And we will do it. We’re grateful for what you’ve done. But Supergirl… you’ve been here searching for days without stop. Please go rest. Eat. Shower.”

“You saying I stink José?” Kara asks, only half joking. 

(She’s very much aware that there must be a very unpleasant stench following her by now)

“No more than the rest of us,” the man replies good-naturedly. He rubs at his greying beard and sobers. “By now, all we’ll find are dogs and corpses. Since you’ve cleared the roads things have been moving much smoother. The extra help we asked the government for finally arrived this morning. We can take it from here. Rest.”

Kara studies his face. His eyes are warm but the tightness at the corners betray his tiredness, his concern. The line between his thick eyebrows might as well be permanent now. She’s sure she has a matching furrow. Stupid crinkle.

The thing is… she _is_ exhausted. To a degree where she feels a pull every time she moves her muscles. Her hands haven’t stopped shaking in hours. 

(She can’t remember the last time she ate) 

Caving, she begins to open her mouth to agree, when their radios spark to life.

“José! Supergirl! A pedestrian bridge just- it- it bam! Colapso by the university! People are trapped. In need of help inmediata-” says a frantic voice.

Kara makes eye contact with José. He chuckles in defeat and points upwards.

  


  


* * *

**  
**

**National City Tribune** @NCTribune  
BREAKING: Market District fire kills two [http://bit.ly/2qgkc2p](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2F2qgkc2p&t=YjM0MzY0NGMxNzg2ZWNjZDhlMzQxODdhZmVjNmZmYzEyNGU4ZjdmZCxUbU4zdWpESg%3D%3D&b=t%3AgM9gKI5naFiyHqWu-NjHSg&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftomas-abe.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F%2Fto-the-star-walker-amongst-us-we-send-our-love&m=0)

 **Brad** @goodguy09  
@mariedillards95 did you see @NCTribute tweet? I guess Supergirl was too busy fucking off in South America to care huh?

 **Josie From the Block** @josieandthecalicos  
@goodguy09 dang bro, take a chill pill. gurl is helping in a disaster zone. when was the last time you even helped round yo momma’s house?

 **Marie D.** @mariedillards95  
@goodguy09 BLOCKED

 **Jason Jay Son** @magic4u2  
@goodguy09 dude can’t expect Supergirl to keep saving us she ain’t even human what does she care ?

 **José Alvarez** @reescatista  
[photo of mud-streaked and haggard José and Supergirl smiling at the camera, with their arms slung around the other’s shoulders]  
Many thanks to #NationalCity for letting us borrow your hero. 

  


* * *

 

It was bound to happen, at the rate she’s been going. 

Still, Kara is surprised when the collapsed beam she tries to lift doesn’t budge. She puts her back into it and it doesn’t move. Tries to lift with her legs and it stays stubbornly grounded. There’s a high pitched buzzing in her ears.

The exertion has caught up to her.

She tries to step away but the street swings in and out of focus. The world tilts, her muscles spasm, and her head pounds. Kara takes huge gulping breaths that expand her ribcage enough to hurt. Spots of color interfere with her vision, as if she had stared at the sun for a moment too long.

Kara stubbornly tries again to take a step forwards but her legs refuse to cooperate and, against her will, fold at the knees. She collapses. Rolls to the side and stares at the strikingly blue Peruvian sky. 

Her hands sting. She doesn’t know how long her fingers have been bleeding for. 

(How many parts of the city are now marked with her blood? How many parts of herself has she left behind?

Here lies another part of Supergirl’s soul. Bright red amongst the looted shops and bloated bodies) 

Kara slowly lifts a leaden arm and, using bloody fingers, traces the crest of El against the dark red staining the fallen beam.

(Blood binds us all indeed)

  


* * *

 

It’s almost nighttime when she finally stumbles into the tent set up by the search teams. José is at her side in an instant, stocky hand on her shoulder, leading her to one of the hard plastic chairs lined up against the back. After a moment of indecisiveness, he takes the seat next to hers.

“I think I might need that break,” she wheezes at him, sheepishly flapping a hand at him.

He smiles at her reassuringly. 

“You do look a little tired,” he says, mock-solemnly. Kara surprises herself by laughing. José preens at the sound. She looks at him fondly, incredibly glad he was around to help her help others. 

They fall into a comfortable silence. A quick glance shows most of the other workers wrapping up loose ends in order to turn in for the day. Unlike her, they’re effectiveness is very limited when dark. 

Her gaze falls on the map. They have been using it to mark the areas they have already searched. Red marker, indicating her own progress, covers most of the map. 

“We really are done huh,” she says absently. José follows her stare to the city map and hums, thoughtfully rubbing his beard. 

“With the rescue efforts? As close as we will ever be,” he replies.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay longer? The next part is going to be rough”

“Every part is rough,” he says gruffly. He raises an eyebrow at her and asks, “Don’t you have a city to protect? You have been away a while, they must be missing you.”

(Kara thinks of Alex, who she hasn’t seen since the night she stopped her from being hurtled into space. She thinks of Winn and James, who, after her outburst over Guardian, have been keeping their distance. Cat, who is probably busy figuring out the meaning of life or secret to happiness. Lucy at DC, fighting against budget cuts Congress is threatening the DEO with after their desert base was compromised. Even Mon-El, sensitive over her rejection, has been avoiding her)

“I do,” she admits grudgingly. 

“Then you should go. Rest. And… thank you for all your help. Our city will be in your debt,” he says. The smile that follows his pronouncement is toothy and genuine. Kara fingers twitch with the sudden overwhelming desire to draw it. To preserve its warmth in indelible ink.

But then Kara replays the last sentence and wrinkles her nose because, honestly, _humans_.

“I’ve never cared much for your human need to exchange deed for debt. I’ll take your thanks but you owe me nothing. I couldn’t have done half of the things I did here without you and your team,” she says firmly, leaving no room for self-deprecation. José doesn’t even blink at her tone. Instead, his smile somehow becomes even more sincere, deep creases framing his eyes.

“Then thank you,” he says. They fall silent for a few more minutes, just catching their breaths. When the last of the workers leave, as if mutually agreed beforehand, they stand and face each other.

“I hope things improve,” she says. He stares at her solemnly for a moment then extends his hand for her to shake. She ignores it and raises her arms, seeking permission for a hug instead. The man is as filthy as she is, so he doesn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around her mud-caked frame. 

“That’s the thing about destruction. When things are torn down, it leaves space for improvement,” he whispers to the side of her head. The fondness in her chest expands immeasurably. They disentangle with a smile. 

“Be safe José,” she says warmly, patting him on the chest in farewell (and slipping a scrap of paper with her Supergirl number, written in runny blue ink, into his breast pocket).

“You as well Supergirl”

  


* * *

   


She borrows a charger from one of the shelter workers. Once her phone has enough juice, she dials Alex.

“Agent Danvers’ phone,” says a familiar voice. It takes her a second to place it as-

“Vasquez?” she asks, surprised.

“Supergirl. Agent Danvers is in a closed meeting with the Director and Pam,” the other woman says, formal in address and tone. Kara winces a little at the thought of Alex and Pam disagreeing on something again. 

“Uh oh. Did she threaten someone again?” she asks.

“Most likely,” says Vasquez, the grin on her face easy to imagine. Kara smiles. “What can I do for you ma’am? I can pass along your message as soon as Agent Danvers returns.”

“Oh. Thank you. Just tell her I solar flared for a second there but I’m fine and heading back soon,” Kara says quickly, not wanting to take anymore of Vasquez’s time.

“Solar- your powers?” 

“Yeah,” Kara replies, a little taken aback at the agent’s worried tone.

“What’s your location? I can send a car over.” 

“Oh,” Kara says, surprised and warmed by the offer, “that’s nice but I’m- I’m not in National City right now. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news but, um, there was some pretty bad flooding in Lima and I came down to help out.” 

“Lima. Like- Peru?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I guess I can’t send a car after all,” says Vasquez with that dry deadpan that sometimes makes Alex cough to disguise her laughter. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, don’t be. Not your fault. It’s ok. Just wanted to let Al- Agent Danvers know that I’m heading back but It’ll take me longer than expected because…“

“Solar flare. Right. I will let Agent Danvers know ma’am,” says Vasquez, returning to the stiffer formal tone she sometimes adopts once she realizes she hasn’t been 100% professional.

(And Kara is just _so_ tired. Of the distance her secrets always create between her and people she trusts. She’s so tired of there always being a wall between herself and everyone she ever encounters. Kara, frankly, is sick of lying)

“These phones are encrypted right?” she asks briskly, afraid she’ll change her mind if she doesn’t act quickly enough.

“They are. I even upgraded the encryption after the whole Lord eavesdropping mess,” Vasquez says, sounding disgruntled. Kara smiles at her phone.

“In that case… Kara,” she says, confident in her decision.

“Pardon?”

“My name. Kara,” she repeats.

“I- are you su-” a deep breath. “Thank you,” says Vasquez, voice a little strangled.

“What for?”

“Trusting me.”

“I’ve trusted you for a while Vasquez. I’m just sorry it took this long for me to show it,” Kara says, tone contrite.

“Susan,” says Vasquez. Kara smiles happily.

“Susan.”

A staticky groan comes out of the phone’s speakers.

“I’ll have to sign so much paperwork,” says Vasquez, sounding very put out. For the second time today, a delighted laugh is surprised out of Kara. Mischievously, she asks, “So… how many agents know or suspect?”

“I plead the fifth.” 

“Mmm. Not super reassuring. Thank you Susan,” Kara says, infusing her tone with as much sarcasm as she can.

“No problem Kara,” Vasquez replies cheerily. Kara stares up at the stars, which reminds her…

“What day is it? I didn’t check before I called” 

“Tuesday”

(Almost a week. No wonder she’s exhausted)

  


* * *

 

Kara is dozing lightly when her phone rings again. Groggy from the short nap, it takes a few fumbling attempts before she finally answers. 

“Vasquez says you solar flared,” says Alex. Quick and to the point. 

“I did.”

“She’s also signing form S-3,” her sister says. Her tone is a little accusing and it makes Kara wriggle uncomfortably. 

“Is she?” she asks, as innocently as she can.

“You told her,” says Alex, exasperated.

“I did.”

Alex sighs. Kara can’t make out whatever it is she’s grumbling under her breath, not with the phone’s speakers still a little caked with mud.

“Just be careful okay,” says Alex. “And rest. Shorting out your powers means you probably haven’t rested properly the last couple of days.”

More like she hasn’t rested _at all_ in the last six days, Kara thinks a little guiltily.

“I will,” she promises. Then, remembering the reason Alex didn’t answer in the first place, she continues, teasingly “and stop threatening the rookies, Pam will only tolerate so much.”

Alex laughs light and airy, even through the blocked speakers. It brightens Kara’s mood instantly.  

“You know Pam’s got a soft spot for us,” says Alex, voice still a little breathless. It doesn’t last long. She’s serious again when she asks, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

“I should be good to fly tomorrow. I’m already feeling way better,” Kara replies dutifully, not wanting Alex to worry much.

“Alright Kara. Call me as soon as you get back. We can go get pizza or something.”

“I’d like that,” Kara says softly.

“Love you Kara”

“Love you too,” says Kara, chest tight with feeling. 

She keeps smiling long after they hang up. Perhaps she’s been imagining the distance between them. Tomorrow they’ll get pizza and maybe finally get around to making some headway into their Netflix queue. And they’ll talk. Because she wants to hear all about Maggie and their dates and Alex’s experiments and the ongoing intimidation of new DEO recruits. 

Kara drifts back to sleep easily thanks to the exhaustion of a hard day’s work and the warmth of her sister’s love.

  


* * *

  


True to her word, Kara’s back in National City the next day. 

Alex doesn’t take her out for pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be long.  
> Some notes:  
> 1\. Begins after Kara’s fired from CatCo (i.e. episode 2x15 “Exodus”)  
> 2\. Episode 2x11 (“The Martian Chronicles”) never happened though. This means:  
> M’Gann did not leave  
> No Kara/Mon-El romance (In general, not much romance outside of some Sanvers)
> 
> 3\. Further alterations from canon:  
> Kara and James/Winn are still on the outs over Guardian  
> No Lyra Strayd


	2. And so, with a Smash, a new Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 6k  
> As always, you can find me in [Tumblr](https://tomas-abe.tumblr.com/)

A kick to the chest propels Kara a couple of feet back, her side skidding painfully against pavement. 

The force of the blow also leaves her gasping, trying to breathe past the burning pain in her chest. The alien she’s been trying to corral away from the city, a particularly nasty-tempered Quetijian, takes advantage of her temporary paralysis to slow down and take deep lungfuls of air. 

(They’ve been fighting for the best part of an hour and the exhaustion is catching up on both of them. Kara especially, since she’s only been back from Peru for a couple of days. Every damn hit that’s landed has been very _very_ painfully felt. Doesn’t help that the alien has four arms. Statistically speaking, her chances of being hit go up with every added limb so-)

a large figure looms above her, blocking Kara’s view of the apartment complexes to her left. 

Seems the Quetijian has decided that finishing her off is worth more than recovering oxygen. She scrambles to her feet, but wobbles to the left as her vision swims at the abrupt movement. A knee to the stomach sends her crashing against a Lexus and leaves her retching. 

She stops dry-heaving long enough to squint at the damaged vehicle. It looks bad, the metal bent horrendously out of shape. She really hopes the owner has a decent car insurance because the repairs aren’t going to be- 

two of the hands grab her leg and twist. Something snaps. Kara’s eyes roll to the back of her head, the pain so intense she blacks out for a second. A third arm grabs the back of her uniform, pulls her into the air, then smashes her body against the car again. Dizzily, she notices blood dripping from somewhere on her head, the hot substance sliding down her face, past the bridge of her nose, until it drips down onto the dented metal underneath her. 

(Would this be covered under collision coverage or liability coverage? She vaguely remembers something about liability insurance covering property damage. She should ask Alex. Or maybe Vasquez)

Kara feels herself be lifted again, except, this time she kicks out with her good leg. And feels a rush of satisfaction when she’s dropped in surprise. She twists around and sees her opponent drop to the ground, forehead plate cracked right between the eyes. 

Bulls-eye sucker.

She lets herself flop down on the mangled car. 

“Hey Alex, how far are you? I don’t know how much longer I can stall,” she wheezes into her comm, pain radiating from her chest at every inhale. Is this what broken ribs feel like? A quick x-ray confirms that, yep, those are broken ribs. “Bee-tee-dubs, now that I know how it feels, you fighting that weird amorphous orange alien on taped ribs has retroactively become even more terrifying.” 

“Broken- shit. We’re two minutes out Supergirl. Just-”

She hears more than feels the displacement of air. There’s a slight whistle as mass cuts through air and Kara rolls off the car, just in time to avoid having her head smashed into the metal by three large fists. She tries to stand but the Quetijian has recovered enough to kick the back of her good knee, sending her sprawling. In return, she turns her head quickly and hits the alien’s face with her heat vision. The move gives her enough space to fling herself backwards, away from the blind angry stomping.

“Oh and Alex? It- he? They? I really wish humans had other ways to describe something outside of gender. Because really, such terms rarely apply to the situations we’ve been in lately, and it’s really inconvenient to not be able to-“

she’s interrupted by a meaty hand squeezing her throat. The hand lifts her up by the neck, high enough that the tips of her boots barely graze the ground.  The Quetijian hums a particularly offensive insult at her.

“Wow that was just rude,” she wheezes. Then she rams her hand into the soft tissue right between neck and collarbones. 

With a subvocal roar she’s thrown sideways. 

Kara crashes through a window, skids across a living room before smashing into a kitchen nook so hard she goes right through it and ends up half-embedded into the plaster and plywood of the wall behind it.

The pain is intense, hard to pinpoint. Everything seems to be on fire. Her throat, her leg, her chest, her head. 

Kara blacks out to the sound of her sister shouting and a different voice frantically going, “Dani! Get away from-”

-

Something is tickling her chin. Thin soft tendrils. Carpet fibers? Hair? 

She’s on her back now instead of awkwardly slumped in a wall. A warm weight is pressing down lightly against her chest. 

“Gabby what do we do? She’s not breathing! Gabby- oh god,” says a voice, loud and shaky, practically next to her chin. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” says another voice, muffled, as if hearing it from a great distance, or from one of those lo-fi albums Alex likes listening to. Then, there’s the soft scratching sound of denim against wood as something gets closer to Kara. The warm weight on her chest lifts.

“Ok ok. I can do this,” says the second voice, now sounding much closer than before. “Dani call 911. Let me- let me try to-,” warm hands tilt Kara’s head up gently “Fuck. I really hope there isn’t some kind of alien flu I can get from this,” is murmured against Kara’s lips before a mouth covers her own at the same time her nose is pinched shut. Kara’s ribcage expands painfully as air is breathed into her lungs. 

Once. Twice. Then something presses down hard against her chest. Repeatedly.

“Ay. Dios. Ay. Dios. Ay. Dios,” keeps chanting whomever is currently bruising Kara’s chest, each word punctuated with a press. Kara wishes she could reassure the person that the whole not breathing thing is totally fine, she needs less oxygen than humans and- oh. 

Duh. 

Kara gathers her remaining strength and inhales sharply. Thankfully, the compressions stop. Someone begins sobbing. If Kara was feeling a little less out of it, she might have shushed them gently.

Instead, Kara drifts back into unconsciousness.

-

“Step back-” 

“No! She has rights!”

“We’re here to help her. Please, step aside. I swear we won’t hurt her,” says a familiar voice.

“Dani, let them.“

“Pero Gabby-”

“There’s nothing we can do. She needs real help Dani. Just- move.”

  


* * *

Kara’s eyes open to the DEO’s sunlamps and her sister gripping her left hand. Everything hurts, a deep persistent ache that leaves Kara immobile. 

The hand around her own tightens. Alex must have noticed her tense up. She feels the ghosting of a thumb over her knuckles.

“Hey you,” says Alex, voice practically a whisper. 

“Broken ribs suck,” Kara croaks to her sister. She turns her head with a groan, throat burning and head pounding. Alex’s face loses its pinched look at the sound of her voice. 

“Don’t I know it,” Alex responds with a huffed laugh.

Kara musters a wobbly and lopsided smile at her. Then she remembers the reason she’s currently out of commission and grimaces.

“Did the Quetijian escape?” she asks, trying not to grind her teeth with self-recrimination. 

(She should have been faster. She should have fought smarter and harder and-)

“Hey no no. We got him Kara,” Alex rushes to reassure, “you actually had him set dead to rights. We got there, and he was so stunned by your last move, that he wasn’t much of a threat. Just,” Alex’s breath hitches, “be more careful next time, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” Kara promises. Her nose twitches. “What’s that smell?”

Alex smiles, the relief behind her amusement practically palpable.

“Chocolate babka from Chairo’s. I know you’ll get hungry soon.”

“Yay,” she says, wiggling her fingers in lieu of pumping her arms up in excitement. “Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Kara,” says Alex. Kara closes her eyes, hit with a wave of tiredness. Before she can fall asleep though, Alex continues, “I’m sorry I bailed on pizza night.”

“T’is ok. You were busy tracking Arm-y and Hammer.”

“And doing a poor job of it,” Alex says. Kara still hasn’t reopened her eyes, but she can tell Alex must be frowning out of some misguided and stubborn sense of guilt. She squeezes her sister’s hand tighter.

“No, you were doing great. And, I mean… you did catch,” Kara lowers her voice in pitch, “ _the perp_.”

Alex snorts.

“What was that?” she asks mirthfully.

“My super secret agent voice,” Kara responds, with as much gravitas as she can. 

(She thought about doing J’onn’s growly voice but her throat is most definitely _not_ up to the challenge)

“We don’t speak like that,” Alex says.

“Uh-huh.”

“We don’t,” she insists.

“Mhhmmm.”

“Shut up dork.” 

They fall silent, the familiar noise of the DEO’s medbay almost soothing Kara back to sleep.

“Still. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Alex says, voice softened with affection. “Maybe the cinema?”

“No,” Kara slurs back tiredly, “can’t talk at movies, ‘s rude.”

“True. Maybe karaoke then”

“I do put the Kara in karaoke,” she mumbles.

“Of course you do,” Alex says. She runs a hand through Kara’s hair gently, avoiding putting pressure on the side covered with gauze. “Sleep.”

“k,” a pause. “Alex?”

“Yeah?”

And maybe it’s the fact that her eyes have been closed for a while and she doesn’t have to see her sister’s face. Or maybe she’s just sick of the bone deep sadness that has been dogging her for a while now, burrowing deep in her mind like the lesser version of a Black Mercy. 

Maybe it’s the concussion. 

Whatever the reason, she suddenly feels brave enough to say, “I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” Alex soothes, misinterpreting her words.

“I know,” Kara says. But when she tries to find a way to mention how lonely she’s been lately, words escape her. 

(She struggles to find a way to say, ‘ _but what about tomorrow? Will you be here tomorrow?’_

Doesn’t know how to say, ‘ _I can’t take this unwinding of selves. This slow diverging of paths until, instead of being on parallel roads, I can’t see you at all.’_

Or, ‘ _I don’t know how to do this without you. I can’t do any of this without you.’_

‘ _Please don’t leave too. I don’t know if I’ll survive it’)_ __

All the words stick to her throat. Instead, she says, “I miss you anyways.”

“Oh,” says Alex. 

And, because Alex is her sister and, even with this odd distance between them, one of the few (maybe the only) who _sees_ Kara, she continues, voice shaky and choked with swallowed back tears, “oh Kara. I’ll be better. I promise.”

(If she had the energy, Kara would sob with relief. Sob with disbelief. Sob a planet’s worth of tears.

If Kara had the energy she would curl into Alex, pluck her sister’s tears from where she keeps them deep in the back of her throat, and cry for both of them.

For the family they’ve lost. The childhoods they grew too fast from. The things they had to bury deep in order to keep going.

Frankly, there are too many reasons to cry)

“Don’t wan’ better. Just you,” she says, fighting against the heaviness of her limbs and the weightlessness of sleep.

Alex brings their clasped hands to her face. Presses her trembling mouth tightly against their fingers, buries her nose in the curve of their knuckles. Breathes deep and wet and shaky and strained.

“Then I’ll be here. I swear. I’m not going anywhere.”

“’k”

Kara drifts off again.

-

Alex stays.

-

Kara is slowly munching on her chocolate babka, when she thinks to ask, “So, how much damage was there?”

Alex snorts. Then she notices Kara’s wide worried eyes and smiles reassuringly.

“It wasn’t lot. A few feet of cracked concrete, couple of damaged cars. I think the worst one was the apartment you crashed into.”

Kara feels the phantom hold of hands tilting her head, chapped lips framing the sides of her mouth. A pleading chant. 

“Oh. Was anyone hurt?” she asks, rubbing at her sternum to dislodge the sensory memory of hands compressing her chest. Alex catches the movement and puts a hand on Kara’s bad knee. The warmth of it eases some of the throbbing.

“No. Just you, you dumb alien. You did scare the college kids living there though,” she admits.

Kara hums thoughtfully. In her distraction, Alex steals a bite of her babka.

“Alex! I’ll melt your face off, you thief!”

“You won’t. You love me too much.”

“I do. Ugh.”

Kara leans against her sister, more content than she has been in days.

  


* * *

 

The next morning, a very sore, but mostly healed Kara Danvers walks into Chairo’s Bakery with the intent to eat her weight’s worth in bread. 

“Hi Freema,” she tells the girl staffing the counter. Then she crouches gingerly in front of the display glass, careful not to smudge the clean crystal.

“Hey Kara! Feeling better?”

“Yeah, much better,” she says. She squints at the cinnamon-raisin bagels. Wait. “How did you-”

Freema leans on the top of the display and shrugs.

“You always get chocolate babka when you’re having a bad day. Sooo, when Alex came by yesterday and bought all of it…” she waves vaguely down at the still crouching Kara.

“Huh. Observant. Thank you. It was really good,” she says.

“Glad to hear that. I actually just put a new batch in the oven like five minutes ago. Are you okay with waiting a bit? Or would you like something else?” Freema aks. Kara looks at the clock hanging on the other side of the bakery.

“I can wait,” she says, straightening out from her crouch. She looks at the clock again and does a double-take, “No school today?”

“Class got cancelled this morning. The professor’s daughter got sick,” says Freema, wiping the counter. “The extra shift worked out well though. I couldn’t come in yesterday because-,” she rolls her eyes, “I had to meet up with some classmates for a group project.”

“I remember those. Not super pleasant but, hey, you get to meet new people. Make friends. You are making friends right?” 

“Yes mom, I’m making friends,” she says, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Sorry sorry. I had to ask! It would be criminal to deprive your schoolmates of your charm and wit,” says Kara with a teasing smile.

“Oh my god. I was wrong. You’re not a mom you’re just like my dad. He literally said the same thing to me last week.” 

“Sounds like a stand up guy. Hey, are you taller than him now?”

“Kara,” Freema whines.

“Ok ok I’ll stop. Just-,” Kara smiles up at the girl gently “you’ve got a beautiful presence Freema. I’m happy that you’re finding your footing. You deserve the world,” she says, trying to convey as much sincerity as she can. The other girl blushes and puts her hands over her face.

“Oh my god. Stop being so damn earnest and go sit and read a newspaper or something. I’ve got a store to run,” she says between her fingers.

Kara laughs.

“Yes ma'am. By the way, your new hairstyle looks really nice,” she says over her shoulder as she bends to pick up the latest _Tribune_ from the rack by the counter.

Freema smiles shyly, touching a hand to her newly twisted braids.

“Thank you,” she says before heading to the kitchen. Kara sits at one of the small booths and begins to look through the paper. 

-

Thankfully, it seems there were no major disasters while she was recovering. A mugging on Sixth Street. No one was injured. Vandalism on the synagogue on Sunset Boulevard. No one injured. A drunk driver hitting a storefront on Independence Avenue. No one injured either. Some other minor theft and burglaries. Another couple of drunk drivers. Other than that though, quiet day.

As Kara waits for her breakfast, she ponders over what to do next.

  


* * *

 

Kara takes a second to nervously adjust her cape before knocking on apartment 3A’s door. 

She hears the shuffling of socked feet on carpet and the whisper of fingers sliding on the wooden door as someone leans against it to peek through the peephole. Kara hears a sharp intake of breath before the door is thrown open, revealing a beaming girl. 

“Supergirl! Hi!” 

“Hello,” she says to the girl. Average height, dark brown hair, tan skin, perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and a wrist encased in a black brace. Kara’s brow furrows at the last detail.

“Um- come in come in,” says the girl, stepping back to allow Kara to walk inside. “How are you?”

“Better,” says Kara, “I’m sorry. Could you remind me of your name?”

“Right. Daniela Martinez. But everyone just calls me Dani.”

“Nice to meet you Dani,” she says, extending a hand. 

Dani stumbles over an upturned crate by the door in her haste to take it. Kara steadies her, grip loose.

“You ok?” she asks.

“Yes. Fine. Totally cool. Sorry for the mess,” says Dani with an embarrassed smile. Kara takes the words as permission to look around, taking in the damaged space. There is a blue tarp taped over the hole where the window used to be. The living room carpet is missing in the spots where her body skidded on top of it, and the kitchen… is a mess. Clean, the debris cleared out. But the breakfast nook is practically demolished, piping exposed, and the back wall still has a Kryptonian shaped hole through it.

“I feel like I should be the one apologizing for the mess,” she admits guiltily. Dani waves her off with a smile.

“Oh no. Don’t worry about it. We saw the news and lemme just say… dang girl- that alien was sure-” she puts her hands up and throws a couple of half-hearted punches. 

“Kicking my ass?”

“Well, yeah,” she says sheepishly. “Can I get you something? Juice, coffee? Tea?”

“Tea would be great.”

“Cool! Tea comin’ right up. You prefer green or-”

-

Dani is just passing her a brightly colored cup when the front door slams open.

“Hey Dani, I’m home! I went to that Michoacana by Fourth and bought these mangoes that look fucking del-“

“Gabby!” Dani interrupts. “We have a visitor.”

Which, she didn’t have to say. Its obvious Gabby can clearly see the caped superhero sitting on one of the apple crates Dani says they’ve been using as chairs since the destruction of their previous ones. The shorter girl’s eyes narrow. 

“You let her drink from Emiliano’s cup?” she asks, voice snippy.

“Well, she did save us all from a gargantum alien. Also, we only have like three unbroken cups, so…” Dani shrugs. 

Kara looks at the cup in her hands with hesitance. “I’m sorry, I can-“ 

“No, its fine,” Gabby interrupts. “Sorry. I’m being an ass. Long day.” Her smile turns gentle, eyes soft. ”Our little brother made that cup when he was younger. See how it’s crooked on the side? He dropped it before the clay dried. He sent it up from Mexico for my 18th birthday so I’m a little protective of it.”

“Your brother sounds like a real great kid,” says Kara, grateful for the lessened animosity.

“He’s awesome,” says Dani from her spot besides Kara. She raises her perfect eyebrows at her sister, wordlessly requesting better behavior. Gabby scowls at the reprimanding look but relaxes her shoulders. She gives Kara a considering look.

“You look less shitty than last time,” she says, tone deadpan. Dani snorts, obviously delighted by her sister’s gruffness.

Kara shrugs a little helplessly, unsure of how to respond. Gabby shifts, arms still looped inside the handles of various plastic bags.

“Sis, help me with these before my arms fall off,” she says to her sister. 

“Aren’t you studying to be a doctor? I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“Please Dani,” she says. Dani pouts but gets up and takes some of the bags from the shorter girl. Together they put the groceries away in the few intact cabinets left.

Once done, Gabby turns towards her, crossing her arms before asking, “So, what can I do for you, Supergirl?”

Kara smiles, a little bashful still at the way people say the name Cat gave her. Even Gabby Martinez, who, understandably, isn’t her biggest fan right now, says it with a measure of respect Kara rarely hears when not wearing the cape.

“I think I should be the one asking that,” she responds.

“What do you mean?” asks Dani, confused.

“I came here to thank you both for your help. And, well. I noticed that things haven’t been fixed…” Kara trails off, unsure. She tilts her head in the direction of the blue tarp.

Gabby tenses even more, but then, she sighs.

“The insurance company isn’t willing to do anything,” she admits. “All repairs would have to come out of our pocket and, we’re-” she blushes a little in embarrassment, “a little strapped for cash lately.”

Kara frowns before hesitantly asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

Gabby drags a hand down her face and sighs again. 

“Unless you can convince the insurance company aliens fall under their coverage or, I don’t know, have a hidden talent for carpentry and plumbing… no, there’s nothing. Thank you for stopping by though, Dani was worried those government types had taken you to some cell in the middle of the desert or something. I mean FBI? Psssh. FBI my ass.”

  


* * *

 

Kara knocks on Alex’s door nervously, trying to think of a way to explain what she’s planning on doing without worrying her sister too much.

Only, instead of Alex, it is Maggie Sawyer who opens the door to her sister’s apartment.

“Kara? Hey! Come in,” she says, opening the door wider to allow Kara in.

“Hey Maggie. Is Alex here?”

“No, she’s at the DEO. I think she had to sign something? She was a little unclear, it being top secret and all.”

“Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence settles around them.

“What did you need? Maybe I can help?” Maggie asks, bravely trying to dispel the awkwardness.

“I just needed to pick up my drill. I left it here a couple of months ago when I was setting up the new bookshelf,” says Kara, pointing vaguely in the living room’s direction.

Maggie eyes the sturdy wood with surprise.

“Really? You set it up?” she asks.

“I did,” says Kara, a little peeved at the surprised tone.

“Huh. Well you’re welcome to look around for it.”

“Thanks.”

She finds the drill quickly enough with her vision. Once she has it in her hand though, she’s not quite sure of what to do next. Should she stay and chat? Explain what she’s planning? She stares at Maggie, who’s busy in the kitchen, preparing some kind of green-colored smoothie. The other woman notices her gaze and smiles, dimples visible. Kara can see why Alex would like her, that’s a very charming smile Detective Sawyer is capable of.

“You want some?” Maggie asks, lifting the blender. Kara can’t help but eye the contents dubiously.

“No thank you.”

Maggie shrugs. 

“Fair enough. Let me walk you out,” she says, wiping her hands on the hand towel with puppies that Kara had given Alex as a gag gift last Christmas. She accompanies Kara to the front door, opening it once they reach it. Kara hesitates at the frame, moving the electric drill from one hand to the other. She looks back at Maggie. Opens her mouth-

and promptly chickens out.

“Ok bye Maggie.”

“Bye Kara.”

  


* * *

**  
**

**Dani Phantom** @dani_mrtz  
@emiliano_mrtz Guess who I got to sign your cup lil bro. Who’s the best sistr now?  
[Photo of a brightly painted cup with a crooked rim and a child’s scrawl on the side spelling out _best sistr_. Right below, written in black sharpie, ‘ _I agree- Supergirl’_ ]

 **Emiliano Zapato** @emiliano_mrtz  
@dani_mrtz omg. Answer skype fea!

 **Gabriela Martinez** @gabby_mrtz  
@emiliano_mrtz how do you have an account? youre eight. @dani_mrtz if you made it for him i swear ill cancel netflix

 **Dani Phantom** @dani_mrtz  
@gabby_mrtz NOOOOOOO! I SWEAR I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! YOU KNOW TODAY’S YOUNG WHIPERSNAPPERS! THEY’RE BORN CONNECTED TO THE #WIFI!

 **Emiliano Zapato** @emiliano_mrtz  
@gabby_mrtz I’m eight not an idiot, I can create my own accounts. @dani_mrtz no one calls it The #Wifi. Also- skyyyype me!

 **Dani Phantom** @dani_mrtz  
@gabby_mrtz @emiliano_mrtz Today’s youth, so disrespectful. Also- I’m calling you loser, you’re not picking up. 

**Emiliano Zapato** @emiliano_mrtz  
@dani_mrtz Because I’m talking to Gabby. She called me as soon as I asked, por lo tanto she is the best sistr

 **Dani Phantom** @dani_mrtz  
@emiliano_mrtz dang lil bro. Way to hit me where it hurts. En mi #corazon #quedolor

  


* * *

Kara tosses and turns in bed but still… sleep evades her. 

  


* * *

Later that same night, Kara finds herself at the synagogue on Sunset, using a utility knife to gently cut away the caulk around the bent metal frame of the topmost window, careful to not touch the drying yellow paint surrounding the frame. She’s angry to note that, even with what seems like a couple of dried coats, the dark outlines of the racial slurs defacing the walls are still visible. 

As she floats down to pick up her drill to remove the screws keeping the mangled frame in place, she can’t help but grumble to herself. 

“What did they _use_? Vantablack? I hope Anish Kapoor sends you cease and desist letters you vile _vile_ -“ 

“Did you change out all the frames?” a voice asks. Kara, distracted in her frustration, yelps in surprise and drops a couple of feet before catching herself. She spins so she can face the sidewalk. There’s a man with a briefcase staring up at her, eyes wide.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says sheepishly.

A couple of other people had passed underneath her, but no one had started conversation so, being addressed directly surprised her. Still- “It’s all right,” she responds. 

“You didn’t have to,” he says, gesturing towards the toolbox by his feet. 

“I just wanted to help. I wasn’t there for the vandalism and- I just wanted to help.” 

“Well. When you’re done come in for some tea. Distract me from these security system quotes,” he says, patting his briefcase, “I think I still have some scones from a great bakery on 26th. Even a little stale, they’re the best in the city.”

“I’d like that. Thank you…”

“Rabbi Eli Kessler,” he says, unlocking the front door.

“Thank you Rabbi Kessler,” she says, floating up towards the frame she had been replacing.

-

The scones really are the best in the city.

-

“What did the police say?” she asks.

“Not much. I was given the impression that we are not particularly high on their list of priorities,” he responds distractedly, focus still mostly on the papers he has laid out in front of him.

“I’m sorry about that. I can talk to them if you’d like?” she offers, shoving another cranberry scone into her mouth.

“No thank you,” Rabbi Kessler says. He passes her the sheaf of papers he had just gone through. The logo on the top corner proudly reads _Dipole Security_. “What do you think of them?”

She reads the cost breakdown quickly and grimaces.

“Unreasonably expensive,” she says. The Rabbi hums in agreement, already pulling out the quote from another company. She nudges the cup of tea he had been drinking from earlier in his direction, wanting him to drink before it cools too much. He smiles gratefully at her and picks up the cup, taking a quick sip. 

“I don’t really blame them for the brush off. What is a little vandalism compared to aliens terrorizing the streets? No offense,” he says. 

“None taken,” she responds automatically. She scratches a little at her jaw, “I just- they smashed every single one of your windows Rabbi. And the graffiti… I feel like this is more than just a little vandalism.”

“I am just grateful no one was hurt,” he says, before passing her the quote from… _Smith-Ngo Security_. She reads it over while he takes another sip from his teacup.

“The price is not too bad but the equipment they’re quoting you on is pretty old,” she says. She rubs her index finger over the raised ridges of the embossed logo. “It’s just not right. What happened.”

They contemplate her words for a few minutes in silence. Finally, Rabbi Kessler grabs another folder from his briefcase.

“Unfortunately,” he pauses. Kara can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “Unfortunately, it isn’t uncommon for my people to be on the receiving end of injustice during times of uncertainty and strife.” His lined face is somber, shoulders hunched. “When there is doubt, there is fear. And with fear comes hate. And, unfortunately, _inevitably_ , hate breeds violence. All we can do- is be kind.”  

Kara gestures to the papers on the desk, “and protect yourselves.”

“And protect ourselves,” he agrees, tipping the folder in her direction.

A long stretch of silence as they return to their tea and the quotes. A logo catches her attention. She reaches towards it and taps the tip of her index finger against it.

“You should hire the Ahmed brothers,” she says.

“Pardon?”

“For the alarm security. I’ve met them before. They’re honest people and coordinate well with police. They’ll price you fairly too,” she says. The Rabbi nods.

“Thank you for the advice.” 

* * *

 

The next morning, Kara finds herself knocking on apartment 3A again.

“Juro por dios, si es otro pinche- vende- soli- solicitor? Fuck, it’s too goddamn early for this bullshit,” she hears someone grumbling from inside.

The door opens to a very grumpy-looking Gabby Martinez. The girl squints up at her from behind messy bangs.

“Ugh. What the fuck,” she groans.

Kara smiles sheepishly and lifts up her toolbox in explanation.

“Thought you’d like some quick repairs,” she says.

“So you _do_ have a hidden talent for carpentry then?”

“Not really. But I went to a bunch of Home Depot workshops when I was in college and learned a thing or two.”

“You went to college?” Dani asks from behind Gabby. The older girl rolls her eyes and sighs, finally opening the door enough for Kara to slip in.

“Ah yes, I did,” she says, gesturing towards the kitchen in askance. Gabby, already heading towards the coffee maker, just grunts and does a permissive motion with her hand.

“That’s awesome!” Dani exclaims, following them to the kitchen. “Where? I’m just starting out my second semester at NCU.”

“Really! What’re you studying?” Kara asks, crouching besides where the breakfast nook used to be and trying to determine which of the exposed pipes are the most damaged (and in the process sidestepping the original question).

“Journalism and photography,” Gabby pipes up proudly from where she’s slumped besides the gurgling coffee maker. With a pang, Kara realizes that the girl reminds her of Alex, grumpy and prickly with strangers but never one to pass up an opportunity to brag about her little sister. It makes her smile at Gabby widely, much to the other girl’s confusion.

“That’s awesome,” she says to Dani. She taps a tube that’s hanging loosely, obviously unconnected from the rest of the piping. “Not interested in medicine like your sister then?” she asks.

“Not at all. I’m leaving the gore and icky stuff to her. I just want to write. Uncover injustice, hold people in power accountable, tell other’s stories. All that jazz,” Dani says.

“Sounds like a noble goal,” Kara responds. Hearing Dani’s obvious enthusiasm and passion for the profession makes Kara miss her former job terribly. She wasn’t very good at it yet, and Snapper was an ass but, Rao, the possibilities. There’s so much she wanted to do.

“Thank you,” Dani says, shyly interrupting her thoughts. Kara smiles back at her as reassuringly as she can. She turns to Gabby, who’s staring at the coffee maker intensely, as if she can hurry the process up through the power of her glare alone.

“I can start with the kitchen. Your pipes are salvageable,” Kara tells the siblings. 

“Man, that’d be such a relief,” admits Gabby, turning to face her. She hesitates a bit before grudgingly asking, “Is there anything you can do about the window?”

Kara looks through the tarp. She’d need to install some drywall, get a better look at the wiring, re-plaster, repaint and fit in a new frame but-

“Yes. I can fix it,” she says.

“Then why not start there? One would think the gaping hole would take priority,” says Gabby, eyebrows almost touching from the force of her frown. Kara stands up and crosses her arms, trying to recover some of the confidence the suit instills in her.

“I wasn’t sure how well you’d take the offer for help,” she confesses. “Thought I’d start small.”

“Fuck small. I want to be able to sleep without the noise of the entire city entering my living room.”

“Then I’ll start there. I just have to head home for a bit to gather plywood and some other stuff,” she lies. In reality, she’d have to dip into her savings to buy most of the stuff. But, if Gabby is anything like Alex, she won’t appreciate the thought of money being spent on her, so she fibs. Just a little. The other girl nods in acquiescence. 

Dani slaps her own forearm, just above the brace, to produce a clapping sound. “Perfect!” she exclaims. “We’ll have lemonade waiting for you when you come back.”

Gabby just snorts and returns to glaring at the coffee maker.

  


* * *

 

Kara is at Susan’s desk, filling in her report on the fight with the Quetijian, when Alex comes up and leans next to her.

“Hey you,” she says, poking at Kara’s temple.

“Hey!” she responds happily.

“Maggie told me you stopped by for your drill?”

“Yep,” Kara says. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask. Please don’t-

“Did you break your cabinets again?”

Of course. Kara avoids Alex’s curious look by paying extra attention to her signature. Unfortunately, Alex has a well of infinite patience when it comes to waiting her out, so Kara can only stall for a few more seconds before cracking.

“No no. I- I needed it to fix a window,” she says, trying to keep it as vague as she can.

Alex, of course, isn’t fooled.

“Oh no. Kara what did you do?” she asks, leaning to the left so she can look Kara in the eyes. 

“Nothing bad!” she rushes to reassure. “Remember those college students whose apartment I practically demolished?”

“Kara-”

“I know I know. It’s risky but- Alex, their landlord wasn’t doing anything! And their insurance company was being real jerks about covering anything too,” she says, still upset about it.

“Kara-”

“It’s just not fair Alex. And I’m so tired of things not being fair,” she admits. Alex softens at her defeated tone. She spins Kara’s chair so that she can lay an arm around Kara.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, tone firm and authoritative.

“It kind of was,” Kara denies. After all, it was her body what had caused the damage. Unintentional as it may have been. “I get you’re worried but, I promise I was there only a few hours. Tops. And I got a lot done. I just- I just wanted to do what I could to help.”

The arm around her squeezes tighter.

“Do you need any help with the repairs?” Alex asks. “I may not be as handy as you with a trowel, but I can help.” 

(And Kara loves her sister for this. For the support and the good-natured humor and the banter and, yes, even the worry.

Never does Kara feel more like she belongs in earth than when in Alex’s presence)

“No, I’m alright. But thank you for the offer. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

 

Kara’s at home, preparing pasta, when her phone buzzes from an incoming text. 

Unknown number. 

She hesitates for a second before opening it. The message is an image of a group of men and women, all wearing hard hats and fluorescent vests.

_Much love from Lima - Jose y el resto de los rescatistas_

Kara beams, wiggling her toes in happiness. Quickly, she hits reply and attaches a photo of a _National_ _City Sun_ clipping she keeps by her desk. It’s a blurb about the recent medical aid Argentina had sent to Peru.

A paragraph is highlighted in bright yellow:

_Local relief workers welcomed the aid sent by the international community. José Alvarez, head of the initial search and rescue teams, was quick to greet and thank all incoming medical personnel at the airport._

_“Seeing the Latin American community come together during this difficult time to help Peru reminds me of what a friend told me once… stronger together. I have never believed in that sentiment more than now, seeing all of you here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title that almost was: _Welcome to National City, Land of Stars_
> 
> Word of warning:  
> this fic will have a lot of National City and its citizens. No superhero story is complete without the motivation behind the heroics. In Kara's case that is the people.  
> Other Supergirl characters will crop up as the story continues. Don't worry, your fave will most likely appear at some point or another.
> 
> Bigger word of warning:  
> Geographic location, some street names, and some monuments are directly based on Los Angeles.  
> However, I've never been to LA. Never.
> 
> Suffice to say, I do not know the city well. My version of the fictional National City is mostly based on people, events, and places from the cities I know.
> 
> So if you're an LA resident and can't recognize a street or a shop or a monument- it's not you. It's me.  
> Apologies for the butchering.
> 
> 5/31 Note: some typos fixed


	3. And so, with a Friend, a new Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara spends some time with friends and makes a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a real hard time writing this chapter for some reason. Still not sure if it turned out how I wanted. Let me know what you think

“Do you ever sleep?”

“Huh?” Kara asks, distracted by the Taelorian crystal in her hands. The inner photovoltaic membrane is damaged beyond repair, but if she can find a way to hook up some kind of energy cell that can bypass the membrane, maybe the crystal can-

A boot nudges her foot. Kara looks down and follows the appendage to its owner, one Agent Susan Vasquez, eyes mirthful and mouth slightly upturned at the corners.

“Supergirl. Fancy seeing you here,” she says, plopping down heavily onto the chair besides Kara. The folders she had been holding are deposited onto the tabletop, besides the outer shell of the Taelorian crystal.

“Hi Susan,” Kara chirps, smiling at her friend (her friend!) cheerfully. “Did you ask me something?”

Susan, DEO uniform perfectly crisp, even at 3am, looks around the small unused conference room they’re currently in with mock-confusion.

“Shouldn’t you be home? You know. Doing one of those basic biological functions called- what did Agent Danvers call it?” she says, snapping her fingers and narrowing her eyes. “Sleep! Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Kara laughs at the agent’s antics before nodding solemnly, “I would be. But then… who would be around to keep the DEO’s _bravest_ intelligence analyst company during her shift?”

“Ha,” Susan says, smirk softening into a smile. “Believe me; this intelligence analyst is thankful for the company.” She grimaces. “Who would have thought that the graveyard shift would be so- well… Dead.”

Kara snorts. Susan shoots her a smirk then grabs the first folder from her pile. They fall into a comfortable silence as they get involved in their own tasks, the humming of the AC and soft flutter of turning pages being the only sounds in the room.

After a while though, Kara hears Susan’s pulse pick up, her breath becoming shallower as she prepares to speak.

“When was the last time you slept?” Susan asks, without looking up from her files, tone airy in a way that reeks of artificiality.

(Through the night?  
Kara isn’t sure)

Kara scratches at her jaw, slightly uncomfortable with the realization. She takes a second to think about it further and- yep. The last time she slept through the night was probably the day before leaving Peru. Not counting the time she was unconscious after fighting the Quetijian. 

(Without work to occupy herself- with a surplus of time in her hands… Kara’s been finding it- 

harder. To ignore the cries for help. No matter how minor or how far. She’s been working overtime as Supergirl lately, subsisting on stolen naps between rescues. 

She knows this kind of momentum is unsustainable and yet-)

“Not too long ago,” Kara responds, mimicking Susan’s tone. “Why?”

Susan makes a couple of notes on the margins of her files. The scratch of pen on paper sets Kara slightly on edge. Anticipation pools in her gut. She’s not sure what to expect.

“You’ve been here for the last three nights. But I know you’ve also been operating during the day,” Susan says, idly tap-tapping with her pen. The vibrations reach Kara’s hands, flat against the tabletop, leaving her fingertips tingly. “So that begs the question… do you sleep?”

“I do,” Kara replies, eyes riveted on the blurring pen between Susan’s fingers. _Tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap_. “I even dream sometimes.”

(Mostly in shades of red. 

Like the red of Krypton dying. Of Rao disappearing out of sight. Of Kal-El’s cape fluttering away from her.

Or the scarlet red lining the edges of her vision as she destroys the city she loves. As she destroys and shatters and breaks.

Sometimes she dreams of the bright red of dripping blood as Astra dies in her arms) 

“So you sleep. When though?” Susan asks, dragging Kara from outside her head. Pen tapping still, rhythm unchanged. _Tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap._

“I’m an alien Susan. I sleep when I need to,” Kara says, a little waspishly. The pen stops. Susan’s eyebrows jump up in surprise at the tone, head swiveling in Kara’s direction. 

And, Kara likes Susan. The agent is loyal and competent. But. There’s a side of Kara, the one that still whispers _hide hide hide_ , that is unwilling to discuss this further. She trusts Susan Vasquez with her life and identity. But her feelings? Her fears? Her doubts? The things that keep her up at night? 

“Nevermind then,” Susan says, turning back to her files, shoulders hiked up almost to her ears.

(Rao. Kara is such a shitty friend)

“Wait- sorry,” Kara says, tone contrite ( _guiltsorrowfrustration_ sitting heavily on her sternum), “I didn’t mean to be so-”

“You’re fine Kara,” Susan interrupts. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just… worry,“ she admits stiffly, gaze focused on the papers in front of her, eyes unmoving. “It’s unlike you to be so moody.”

Kara softens, touched by the concern.

"You don’t have to worry,” she says, giving Susan a bit more space by turning back to the insides of the Taelorian crystal, idly turning it over between her hands, “I do nap. I promise. I just don’t need as much sleep as you do.”

“How does that work?” Susan asks, still not facing Kara. But her shoulders relax an inch and that’s enough, “Does the sun power you up so that you don’t need it?”

Kara hums thoughtfully, running her thumb along the cool smooth edges of the alien crystal.

“Kind of? My metabolism is very efficient, so energy conservation is not much of a problem as long as I eat enough calories and get enough sun. So… sleep isn’t really an energy thing for me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Ok, so human brains need sleep for improved cognition and memory retention right?” Kara asks, setting the crystal down so she can use her hands to gesticulate.

“Right,” says Susan, in the tone of voice of someone who is humoring an odd conversational tangent. Kara knocks her shoulder against the other woman’s softly in retaliation.

“Anyways,” she drawls, “for Kryptonians, our brains are more- streamlined? Those functions that occur when you sleep? For me, they happen even when awake- although not as efficiently as when I sleep.” 

“So you can go on with little sleep for longer than any human…” Susan trails off, looking unsure of how to continue. 

“Without seeing any detrimental effects on cognition,” Kara finishes, smile tentative.

Susan whistles in appreciation. 

“Handy,” she says. “So the naps are enough?”

“For now? Yeah,” Kara says, flapping a hand besides her head, unwilling to be more disingenuous with her friend.

Susan turns in Kara’s direction and asks, tone careful, “Anything I can do to help? Maybe ask Director Henshaw to give you a day off?”

“No that’s fine. You’re um- you’re doing enough,” says Kara. Susan raises her eyebrows in question. A little bashful, Kara continues, “It’s nice to have someone worry.”

“And here I thought Agent Danvers did enough worrying for the entire base,” Susan teases. Kara laughs hollowly.

“Right.”

  


* * *

**  
**

**NC Celebrities** @NCpaps  
@Lena_Luthor seen back in National City with mysterious gentleman after week abroad [bit.ly/2s5DLiG](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2F2s5DLiG&t=ZTQyNTA1OWNlZjhjYmUwNmYzYTFiMjMxZDdmZTlhMzAwMDRlOTFhYyxUbU4zdWpESg%3D%3D&b=t%3AgM9gKI5naFiyHqWu-NjHSg&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftomas-abe.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F%2Fto-the-star-walker-amongst-us-we-send-our-love&m=0)

 **Who is Batman** @who_fckn_knows  
seeing @NCpaps headline makes me wonder… how many billionaires are hounded by paps? besides @Lena_Luthor and @BruceWayne

 **Mark Falls** @markymarkyie  
@who_fckn_knows A better question would be: was @Lena_Luthor involved in the CADMUS kidnappings from two weeks ago?

 **Who is Batman** @who_fckn_knows  
@markymarkyie fuck dude I was just having fun. since you asked tho… 1. LL aided in capture of CADMUS leader. 2. Testified in court

 **Who is Batman** @who_fckn_knows  
3\. THEN was framed and almost buried by media circus until she was proven innocent. 4. Lex and Lillian Luthor BOTH tried to kill her jeez

 **Meaghaen Cole** @sgfan09  
@who_fckn_know @markymarkyie All Luthors are bad news #familycraycray #justiceforNC #justiceforMetropolis

 **NC BioTech & BioEngineering Conference** @NCBTBEC  
Joining Mario Molina, Aziz Sancar, Ada Yonath, and more, as guest speaker for NC’s 10th Annual BioTech and BioEngineering Conference, is… 

**NC BioTech & BioEngineering Conference** @NCBTBEC  
@Lena_Luthor! Talking about the future of Lexapro and other SSRIs! #BTBEC10

 **Timothy Rowles** @timrowles87  
@Lena_Luthor LEX WAS RIGHT! ALIEN THREAT WILL DESTROY EARTH! ALIENS AGGRESSIVE AND UNABLE TO ASSIMILATE! #ROUNDEMUP 

  


* * *

  


Kara meets Lena Luthor for lunch at Dulbecco’s. The place is a total hole in the wall, but Renato and Maureen Dulbecco make the best culurgiones Kara has ever tasted.

(Also, they are incredibly kind. She thinks Lena could use a little kindness lately) 

After a round of boisterous greetings from the Dulbeccos that leave Lena flustered but smiling, they sit in comfortable silence, checking their emails while they wait for their food. 

“You were right,” Lena says, breaking the silence. She’s fidgeting with her phone, using her thumb to smooth over the peeling corner of the protective film covering the screen.

“Duh. Of course I was right,” Kara says absently, smiling down at the selfie José had sent of him and his wife in formalwear, a medal gleaming proudly from his chest. It’s captioned with ‘ _got awarded with the Orden El Sol del Perú!!!!’_

(Lena’s words register) 

“Wait- what was I right about?” 

Lena laughs, a soft exhalation that leaves her eyes crinkled and a small smile on her face. Kara puts her phone away and pouts until her friend relents.

“About leaving the city for a bit. Taking a break from CADMUS and… my mother,” Lena says, smile fading. 

“You got dropped out your balcony. Of course you needed a breather,” says Kara, tone as gentle as can be. Lena looks down and fidgets with her phone again. Which- no. Kara had not meant to upset her. 

“How did it go then? In Colombia,” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

It works. Lena perks up instantly. 

“Oh it was wonderful. The research team I have out there is doing amazing work and it was incredible getting to see it,” she says, eyes bright.

“They’re the ones researching ground microbes right? Like- possible probiotics for plants? Their effect on crop growth and stuff?”

“Yes. Arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi. _R. irregularis_ specifically,” she says smoothly, without tripping over the terms, “we still need more data but the preliminary results are promising.”

“Promising how?” Kara asks, curious despite herself. 

(Krypton had not used probiotics for farming. They wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Towards the end, the soil was too barren, unable to feed even the most basic of bacteria. People had resorted to growing everything on sugar-based gel matrices. 

Kara remembers tending to their home’s interior garden. Aunt Astra-)

“I- well,” Lena hesitates, obviously torn between a desire to share and the need for discretion on what surely must be sensitive research.

“Totally off the record,” Kara says, wanting to reassure her friend. “Not that I have a job anyways,” she jokes.

Lena deflates at that, brow furrowing.

“Which is completely unfair and really Kara, I am so sorr-“

“No no. You have nothing to apologize for,” Kara interrupts. At Lena’s dubious look she adds, “You might have made the original suggestion but it was my decision. My words. My actions. My responsibility.”

Lena nods slowly. Kara suddenly realizes that she’s broadened her shoulders too much, tilted her chin upwards at an angle Kara Danvers would never have dared to, lowered her voice to a timbre that doesn’t belong in soft pastels and lead frames. She deflates slowly, so as to not draw even more attention to her uncharacteristic demeanor.

(Sloppy. Being Supergirl for so long without proper breaks is making her sloppy. 

Kara Danvers and her meekness and awkwardness and goofiness is seeping into Supergirl. And Supergirl’s assertiveness and righteousness and otherness is seeping into Kara Danvers.

Sloppy. _Sloppy_ )

Kara adjusts her glasses, tilts her head to the right and sets her palms loose and face up on the tablecloth. She roots around the tangle of feelings in her chest until she finds _embarrassmentshame_ , and she grips onto those feelings until her shoulders pull down and the smile on her face turns bashful. 

(Adjusts her thought process and emotions until she feels more like who she wants to be. Until she _is_ who she needs to be.

Open and unthreatening and harmless, totally ordinary Kara Danvers.

 _Hide hide hide_ )

“You did nothing wrong Lena. You did the opposite. You were kind and helpful and a true friend. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that,” she says, meaning every word. 

Lena responds to her words with a smile, a little tight around the edges but sincere. A warm burst of affection settles under Kara’s collarbones and between her molars for this _tentativecarefulbravewonderful_ human.

“Now c'mon tell me all about these promising results. You looked excited. I like it when you get excited about stuff,” she says, slouching closer. Lena snorts at her insistence, but Kara can feel the way their table jostles as Lena restlessly shakes her right foot. So she waits…

“Twenty percent!” Lena bursts.

“What? No way!”

“Yes!”

“Yuca right? Was it uniform?” Kara asks. 

“Yes, at the final harvest, the yuca that was treated with AMF had an increase of over _2 tons_ more roots per hectare. And, when using half, _half_! Half of the phosphorus fertilizer the local farmers tend to use, we got a 33% increase in yield over untreated, unfertilized yuca,” Lena says excitedly, smile widening and turning happy as its previous tightness is lost to bright ebullience.

“Holy crap Lena that’s- that’s mind-blowing.”

“I know!”

“Are you going to patent?” Kara asks. 

Lena stills for a moment, staring at some spot over Kara’s shoulders as her fingers tap against the table in thought. 

(Kara doesn’t mind. It allows her to think on what the results could mean: 

higher crop yield, cutting down on harmful fertilizer, and- wasn’t there flooding in Colombia too a few months ago? Were L-Corp’s crops affected? Did the AMF also result in hardier plants? 

Rao, the possibilities)

“Microorganisms like these can’t be patented. I mean. They _can_ be. If we modify them, which really is the next logical step, but…” Lena trails off.

“Ah,” says Kara, “the big question. Not _can_ we but _should_ we.”

Lena nods.

“It is an ethical dilemma that could be challenged in court. But, honestly, I don’t want to patent anyways. This kind of science should be accessible to all. I’ve never liked the precedent created by big agro in patenting genetically modified plant life,” she admits, fingers tightening into fists.

Kara can’t help but smile fondly at the perturbed look Lena is sporting. 

“I think that’s noble of you. This kind of product could really change food production,” Kara says, then winces as a thought hits her, “Will the board be ok with that though? Not patenting? Even if you don’t patent the probiotic or future genetic modifications… you could definitely make the inoculation process itself proprietary and make millions.”

“I’ll deal with the board,” Lena says, smile turning mischievous and edged with sharpness. “I know other companies are researching similar probiotics too. If we get ahead and let the process be accessible, competitors like Monsanto won’t be able to do something stupid like sue small farmers for misuse,” she says, sharpness giving way to an earnest kind of righteousness, as paradoxical as that sounds.

“You’re a good person Lena,” Kara says, smiling softly at the way Lena blushes and dismisses the compliment with a flick of her wrist.

“This is, of course, assuming the results stay consistent. Plus, we still have so many factors to study,” Lena says, tone matter-of-fact.

“Of course,” Kara concurs, suddenly distracted by the smell of rich tomato sauce drifting from her right as a beaming Renato approaches with their food.

  


-

  


“So… did the whole plant grow? Or just the roots? What about the effect on soil? Are you going for a second harvest? Or are you going to grow a different crop?”

Lena’s smile turns luminous. 

  


-

  


After lunch, with a container of cannoli courtesy of the Dulbecco’s tucked under her arm, Kara walks Lena to her car. 

“Thank you,” Lena says, stopping abruptly. A little thrown, Kara tilts her head to the side in askance.

“For convincing me to go,” Lena clarifies. “Seeing the good my company can do… I- I needed that.”

Kara lifts her right arm slowly, sliding it behind Lena’s shoulders then carefully, carefully, bringing the shorter woman closer until her friend is tucked under Kara’s chin in a one-armed hug. Lena hugs back briefly before pulling back. 

“I know it doesn’t mean much coming from an unemployed bum like me but… You’re going to change the world Lena Luthor. For the better. I’m sure of it. And I am so, _so_ proud of you,” Kara says, injecting as much earnestness as she can into the words in the hopes that they sink into Lena’s human skin with enough weight to be remembered.

Lena just smiles back tremulously. 

  


* * *

**  
**

**Alex**  
_Soooo. Turns out Julio’s is closed_

**Kara** _  
WHat?!_

**Alex** _  
Not permanent. They r renov8ing_

**Kara** _  
Phew. You had me worried for a second there Alex_

**Alex** _  
So karaoke is out. Unless u want 2 look 4 some other place?_

**Kara** _  
No no. Julio’s or bust Alex. Julio’s or bust_

**Alex** _  
That’s what I thought. & I’m sure Julio appreciates the loyalty, but it leaves us w/out plans_

**Kara** _  
We can just order in and watch something_

**Alex** _  
K. 7?_

**Kara** _  
That works_

_  
_

* * *

  


Kara has just finished changing into her pajamas when there’s a knock at the door. She shuffles her feet excitedly, looking forwards to a night in with her sister. 

“Did you forget your key again?” she teases as she opens the door. Except, it’s not Alex. “Oh. Hey Maggie.”

“Hey Kara,” says Maggie, dimpled smile on full display. She lifts her arms, showing the wine bottles held in each hand. “Alex sent me ahead with the wine.”

“Cool. Are you joining us for movie night?” Kara asks, stepping aside to allow the shorter woman in. Maggie tilts the bottle in her right hand towards the kitchen, wordlessly asking where Kara wants them. “The island counter is good.”

“No no,” Maggie says, heading towards the counter. “I hear this is exclusively for Danvers sisters. I’m just dropping Alex off.”

Free of the bottles, Maggie shoves her hands into her jean pockets, now looking unsure. 

(Kara wonders where the confidently smirking detective who knocks out aliens with a pipe to the head has gone.

_Make an effort_

Get to know the kind, amazing person Alex keeps gushing about)

“You sure? We’re gonna do a Disney marathon,” she says. Maggie laughs.

“As nice as that sounds, yes, I’m sure.”

_Make an effort._

“Maybe some other night then? You can choose the movie.”

“Maybe,” Maggie says, looking surprised at the invitation. She squints up at Kara for a second, obviously thinking something over. “Or,” she hesitates, “would you like to get dinner sometime?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’d like that. Let me know when you’re free.”

They smile at each other, tentative but sincere. The moment is broken when Alex barrels into the apartment, arms full of takeout.

“Kara! Guess how many potstickers I brought?”

  


* * *

  


They sit in awkward silence, staring at the movie playing on the TV with more intensity than strictly required. 

(Kara hates it she hates it she hates it)

Conversation had flown easily at first, both of them catching each other up on the DEO gossip the other had missed. Then Alex had mentioned how easy it was to scare Winn by looming over his shoulder whenever he started playing his online games and- well. Kara’s face must have done something funny ( _worryangerwistfulness_ ) because Alex had trailed off and abruptly changed the subject to her neighbor’s new cat and its inability to stay quiet at night. 

And, as the night progressed it became increasingly obvious that their rapport has changed 

Kara doesn’t dare bring up Jeremiah. 

(Remembers “you’re either part of the family or you’re not” and “he’s my father too” and “then _act like it._ ”

She doesn’t want to know if Alex still feels that way) 

Alex avoids mentioning Winn and James and Guardian like a plague and Kara is grateful but also not because Alex _knew_. 

(Alex knew and didn’t _tell her_ and what is Kara supposed to do with that?)

And it’s not like Kara isn’t blameless. She’s been keeping stuff from Alex too. 

(Her continued contact with José. An ongoing aversion to sleep. Mon-El and his feelings. The increased social media attention following her blog post. Dwindling savings.

Rao, Kara can’t recall the last time she was completely honest with someone. Anyone.) 

And, the worst part of it all, is the realization that this is not a new state of affairs. Even before this awkward tension, they didn’t talk about Alex’s grad school years. Or of Alex’s time in the DEO before Kara. They stopped talking about Krypton (because of Aunt Astra _Aunt Astra_ who Alex _killed_ ) and they rarely talked about Kal-El ( _does he understand he abandoned you with us? Do you?_ ). And they- and she-

And it’s like Kara’s been transported three years back in time to when Alex was pulling away and Kara was quietly imploding from within, feelings of _detachmentpurposelessnessgrief_ ( _always grief_ ) saturating her every thought. 

Her phone rings, sound piercing in the tense silence of the apartment. Kara grabs at it quickly while Alex pauses the movie.

“Hello?” 

“Kara!” booms a boisterous voice. She winces and moves her phone away from her ear. _Mike Mathews_ stares up at her in large white font. She sits up quickly.

“Mon-El? What’s wrong?” she asks, muscles tensing already in anticipation.

“Kara!” a hiccup, “can I borrow twenty dollars? I have a bet with- with. Roan! I had a bet with Roan here about who could hit the darts and I lost.”

Kara pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. Alex is already moving towards the door, grabbing Kara’s coat.

“I’ll be there soon. Please behave,” she says, scooping up her keys and taking her coat from Alex. She extends her free arm and mouths _Raincheck?_ at her sister.

“Sure Supergirl,” Alex says fondly, already folding into Kara’s sideways hug. The sound of a crash drifts out of her phone speaker. 

Alex laughs and opens the apartment door. 

“I’ll clean up here. Go rescue your wayward mentee.”

  


* * *

  


As soon as she steps into the bar, M’gann comes over to stand next to her, full drink tray in hand. 

“Hi M’gann. Have you-“

M’gann points to the right, where a small huddled group bursts out in laughter. Kara sighs. Of course. M’gann smiles and pats Kara’s back consolingly.

“Good luck,” she says, already walking in the opposite direction, where some bar patrons are waiting for their drinks.

Kara watches her go for a moment before taking a fortifying breath and moving towards the loud booth. As she gets closer, Mon-El catches sight of her and gesticulates wildly. She reaches the table with another sigh.

“Guys! Guys!” Mon-El shouts, trying to catch the attention of the other three aliens in the booth. “This is Kara! The girl I was telling you about!” 

And, suddenly, every head in the booth turns to her. She fidgets, flustered and unsure. The attention makes her nervous.

( _Hide hide hide_ ) 

Might be the eyes. Alien #3 has a disconcertingly large amount of them.

“Pleasure meeting you,” she greets politely. “Sorry about this doofus. C’mon Mike, I got an Uber waiting,” she lies, reaching for him. Except, Mon-El is deceptively fast in his drunken state and instead pulls on her arm until she’s squished besides him.

“Kara. Kara meet my pals. My drinking buddies. My brothers in ale and-“ she elbows him in the ribs. He lets go with a yelp and pouts. He drops it quickly though, good-natured grin returning fast. “I was just telling them about how super awesome you are!”

Kara’s eyes widen. Oh no.

One of the aliens, tall and thin and slightly shimmery when seen from an angle, stands up. He towers over her and her nervousness increases as he-

Reaches out a hand.

It hangs suspended in the air for a few seconds before she recognizes the gesture and, hesitatingly, puts her own palm in his larger one. The handshake is brief but firm.

“Young-joo Lee. My brother was on that ship,” he says. “I didn’t even notice he was gone until-” He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“I- it was Supergirl who saved the day.” She denies, hoping Mon-El hadn’t let anything slip. “I just-”

“Blobbed!” Mon-El crows. The tension in her shoulders relaxes. 

Ok. Yeah, this she could deal with.

“You told the truth. Brought to light what everyone else was unwilling to reveal,” Young-joo says, face open, eyes bright.

“It was brave,” pipes up the many-eyed alien. “Honorable.”

“I just did what was right,” she demurs.  Young-joo smiles, teeth unusually white and block-like. She stands and turns towards Mon-El, sighing at his slumped, dopily-grinning frame. The aliens around her laugh good-naturedly, an odd cacophony of high trills and croaks and wheezing exhalations.

“Can you stand?” she asks. He nods enthusiastically, and instantly straightens… only to sway precariously to the left. Young-joo, still standing, shifts quickly and throws an arm around Mon-El, supporting his weight easily.

“Woah big guy! How very forward of you. First you gotta buy me a drink though. Earth tradition says so,” says her intoxicated friend, smarmy grin accompanied by a remarkably uncoordinated wink. Young-joo trills in amusement, helping Mon-El sit again.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks my friend,” to her he says, “I’ll get him some water.”

Kara smiles gratefully at him. She looks at a slightly green Mon-El and decides it might be best to wait for him to sober up a bit. She’d rather he didn’t puke on the flight home.

“Kara Danvers,” she says, smiling at the rest of the table as she sits down, “although I guess you already know that.”

“I’m Javi’r,” says the many-eyed alien, “and this other rascal is Vuwster.” 

“Should I even ask what happened with Roan the dart-thrower?” Kara asks.

Vuwster, an Uxorian if she were to hazard a guess, croaks heartily. “Worry not lady. They settled the wager with a rousing round of roshambo.”

Kara smiles, amused and relieved at the non-violent duel. She nudges Mon-El, who is distractedly eating from the peanut bowl in front of him. He smiles at her, cheeks bulging with food.

Young-joo, back from the bar, sets a bottle of water in front of Mon-El. He also sets a glass in front of Kara. She looks up at him in askance.

“Club soda,” he says, returning to his seat.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, sipping from the glass, “your brother. How is he?”

Young-joo purses his lips, thinking his answer through.

“Safe,” he settles on. Javi’r snorts.

“Scared out of his wits,” he says, some of his eyes narrowing while the others roll upwards in exasperation. Or frustration. Kind of hard to tell.

“Fool is what we called him when he decided to register. We were right to be suspicious,” adds Vuwster, green skin turning grey in agitation. “Foolish foolish decision. Registering when human-passing. Foolish.”

“It was his choice to make,” Young-joo argues, voice placid, “we had to respect that.”

“And he did make good points,” Javi’r adds. “With citizenship he could apply to that company he wanted to work in. The software place.”

“VividCortex,” Young-joo says. To Kara he explains, “big companies tend to outsource their database programming to them. Hyeon and I sometimes get hired to clean their offices. My brother has been learning human programming from one of their female employees.”

“A crush. He registered for a doomed romance,” Vuwster says contemptuously.

“No,” says Young-joo forcefully, indignation clear in the word, “he registered for the chance to rise beyond his station. To live a better, fuller life than the one he had.”

“He was tired of hiding,” says Javi’r. He looks at them all tiredly, “something we can all understand.”

( _Hide hide hide_ )

“Yes,” Kara breathes, ignoring the running mantra in her head. 

The tension that had been building up fizzles out as the booth’s other occupants relax at her one-word admission. Impulsively, she puts her hand on top of Young-joo’s.

“Send him my regards?”

“I will,” he says. Then exchanges a considering glance with Javi’r. “Or maybe…” 

He plucks a pen from Javi’r’s breast pocket and digs into his coat. Once he produces a crumpled receipt, he writes quickly and extends it to her. 

“Tuesday night. Neighborhood barbecue. Figueroa Street,” he says, looking shy all of a sudden, shimmer intensifying until his face is framed by a hazy light. “If you want. No pressure.”

Kara reaches for the receipt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer to having almost all pieces set in place for some actual plot.
> 
> Also thank you to everyone who has read and commented. Real heroes
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://tomas-abe.tumblr.com/)


	4. And so, with a Panic, Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara panics over her actions.  
> Maggie tries to bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a short chapter after such a long wait. I just couldn’t seem to make it work right. Minimal editing so let me know if you see any mistakes.

Tuesday…   
tuesday is another sleepless night.

A sleepless night of restlessly prowling through harshly-lit DEO corridors, skin crawling, heart in throat. Feelings just waiting to burst.

Kara hasn’t slept in days.

(Partly due to the uptick in gang violence down in Coast City that has been taking up most of her evenings, leaving her worked up and twitchy for hours, waiting for the sun to rise.

Partly because, every time she closes her eyes for longer than a minute, she remembers Roberto Rodriguez’s hideous tie and cracked skull.

Or she remembers holding Alex’s hand as the world around her shakes and shakes and-)

Kara hasn’t slept in days.

(Partly to avoid the darkness, because lately the dark seems to invite the echoing whispers of the Phantom Zone into her head, tugging at long erected barriers that delineate the before and the after and-)

Kara hasn’t slept in days.

And, truthfully (because Kara has to be truthful at least to herself), it’s mostly because she is totally and completely  _fucking_   _terrified_.

Kara hasn’t slept in days because, as soon as she lies down, she begins to turn over that darned one word admission in her head.

Over and over, vacillating between anger and worry and terror and exhilaration.

She outed herself. She outed herself as an alien to total strangers.

(Years of hiding and suddenly she can’t stay silent? What the hell was she thinking?

What is wrong with her? Why did she do that?

Rao, they know her name.

The Danvers. Rao. She just put Alex and Eliza in danger.

And for what? A whim?

What the fuck is wrong with her. Why did she do that?  _Why the fuck did she do that?_ )

Kara takes three steps forwards, eating up the distance between the end of the hall and the wall with long strides before turning quickly, sharply, almost gliding in the other direction.

Idly, she hears Susan’s heartbeat turning a corner a couple of hallways down, no doubt heading towards the break room for her lunch.

Kara wavers for a minute, feet already pointed in Susan’s direction-

(No  _no_ )

Kara pivots and continues pacing, a pang of  _guiltlonging_  mixing with the  _terrorterrorterror_  that has been her default the last few days.

(She has been avoiding everyone, unsure of what to say, too ashamed to even look at her family and friends because-

Because they, loyal beautiful foolhardy humans that they are, would die rather than reveal her secret.

How can she face them knowing what she has done?)

Kara fidgets with her phone, inputting numbers without thought, finger hesitating over the little green circle near the bottom of the screen.

This has also become routine. Pulling her phone out and almost calling someone. Alex maybe. Or Eliza.

(Sometimes she puts in Jeremiah’s old number, muscle memory uncaring of betrayals and impossibilities)

Kara doesn’t dial.

(She never does)

The pacing begins anew.

  


* * *

  


Kara has to fix this.

(She has no idea on how to fix this)

Kara reaches into her cape pocket and retrieves a square piece of paper, unfolding it quickly. She carefully presses its rumpled edges against the wall, using her palms to smooth it out.

Grabbing a pencil from inside her boot, Kara taps the eraser against the scribbled list where she has written down every conceivable idea she has frantically come up with in the last few days.

The list goes:

1.       Ask them nicely to keep it quiet. 

Kara snorts, already imagining Alex rolling her eyes.   
 _(’Yes, super likely they’ll do that Kara’_ )

2.       J'onn can wipe their memories.

Kara crosses the line out. It is useless anyways, Uxorians are a telepathic-resistant species.   
(She checked)

3.       Deny it all, say they were drunk and out of it.

Long-shot. The only plastered one that night had been Mon-El

4.       Hit their heads really hard. That causes amnesia right?

(Retrograde amnesia isn’t permanent, plus she doesn’t want to hurt them. It is her fault they know)

5.       Cross universes to Barry. Ask him to travel in time and prevent your idiotic  _IDIOTIC_  actions.

Kara sighs and erases the line. Messing with time is just asking for trouble.   
(There’s a reason time-travel was strictly forbidden in Krypton)

6.       Make  _them_  cross universes, throw them into a breach and never see them again. Out of sight out of mind.

(The thought alone makes her vaguely sick. Forcing someone away from their lives? Their families? No one deserves that)

Kara sighs and refolds the list.

The pacing continues.

  


* * *

  


There’s a cat yowling pitifully two blocks down. 

A couple of contractors are cutting the overgrown grass behind the building, their weed whackers a constant barrage of  _vurge-rge-rge_  that seems to drill into her head.

Kara sits on her shower floor, head tucked between her knees, palms over ears, water at full blast in the hopes of drowning out the noise.

It’s no use though. 

The usual sound of revving cars and jabbering humans and faint static seems to press in from every direction. 

There’s the slick wet sounds of the couple two floors down having sex and there’s the  _ta-ta-ta-ta_ of her neighbor tapping a nail against her laptop and there’s ten different toilets flushing simultaneously in a three mile radius and Kara wants to claw her ears off. Wants to scream and scream and  _scream_  until all she can hear is her own voice-

There’s another moan and a backfiring car rolls down the street and Kara is ready to fling herself into space just to avoid hearing every goddamned-

_trring-trring-trring_

The tiled floor cracks under the sudden clenching of her toes.

Kara stuffs a fist between her teeth and screams.

  


* * *

  


‘Hello. This is Kara Danvers. I am currently unavailable but if you leave your name and contact information, I can get back to you as soon as I can.’  

“Hey Kara. It’s um- it’s Maggie,” a pause, “which. You can obviously tell from caller ID. Right. I- um. I know I said we could do dinner but I- uh, I asked Alex if there was something you enjoyed doing and she mentioned you liked art and- shit. I- I hope it’s ok that I asked. I didn’t mean to pry or anything and-”, another pause followed by a rueful laugh, “sorry, this was supposed to be brief.”

A deep bracing inhale.

“A friend in the precinct knows the NCMA curator and, well, I got tickets for all the exhibitions. Let me know if you want to go. Or if you want to do something else. That’s totally fine too. We can just do dinner or whatever. So, yeah. Bye.”

  


* * *

  


It takes a few hours but, by noon, the world finally quiets enough for Kara to check her messages.

Maggie’s voicemail leaves a tightness in her chest, a heaviness to her brow.

(Kara doesn’t deserve Maggie Sawyer’s thoughtfulness. Not when she may have just potentially ruined absolutely everything)

Kara sighs and opens a new SMS

_Hey Maggie, I’m pretty busy so I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything this week._

Kara pauses before hitting send.

(Thinks of Alex giggling in the DEO. Of Alex bashfully gushing about Maggie’s kindness and Maggie’s smarts and Maggie’s smile and Maggie’s right hook)

Kara deletes the message.

_Hey Maggie, I’d love to go to the NCMA! Just let me know what day and time._

Kara doesn’t even get the chance to lock her phone before it pings with an incoming text.

_Awesome. Does tomorrow afternoon work? I know it’s short notice…_

_Tomorrow afternoon is perfect :)_

_  
_

* * *

  


Kara and Maggie had met at the large vaulted entrance of the National City Museum of Art half an hour ago.

Since then, besides the usual greetings, they have not exchanged a single word.

As they weave silently between the metal sculptures of the Alexander Calder exhibit, Kara studies her companion. 

Arms crossed, jaw clenched, Maggie Sawyer looks surprisingly uneasy for someone who, by all of Alex’s accounts, usually carries herself with easy confidence and a reckless kind of charm.

Maggie looks at the museum content perfunctorily, dark eyes sliding off famous expressions of human creativity with the dismissiveness of someone who has never really had any interest in art. Instead, the detective’s gaze lingers on exits, on other museumgoers, on the bored security guard scrolling through his Instagram feed.

 _She’s bored_ , Kara realizes. 

(Maggie Sawyer got tickets to a place that is of no interest to herself just to please Kara)

The realization is startling. Kara flexes her fingers lightly. Not enough to be overt in her fidgeting, but just enough to calm her nervous energy a little, to clear her buzzing thoughts enough so as to come up with some kind of plan or conversation starter.

As they walk onwards to the next exhibit (advertised as a showcase for local talent, with wooden benches in front of some of the works) Kara considers the wisdom of asking Maggie about bonsai trees.

(Or perhaps guns? What else had Alex said that Maggie liked? Maybe-)

A vibrant blue painting, the tallest in the room, catches Kara’s attention, rendering her immobile as she takes a moment to inspect it from a few feet away.

“Woah,” she whispers, taking in the way dozens of shades of blues blend into each other.

“Very impressive blue,” Maggie says from somewhere behind Kara. “It- um, looks very,” she pauses, “monochromatic?”

Kara turns and giggles, delighted with the flustered way the detective had fumbled for a descriptor.

(Maggie obviously knows little about art and yet… here she is. Trying)

Kara beams at a blushing Maggie, who smiles back instantly, crossed arms loosening slightly. Kara reaches out and gently cups Maggie’s elbows, carefully pulling so that the distance between the two shortens.

“You know… back on-” Kara lowers her voice to a whisper, bending at the neck to bring her head closer to Maggie’s, “back home we- we were a scientific people. Practical in many ways. We didn’t have paintings. No oils or pastels or chalks.”

Kara looks around furtively, double-checking her surroundings again to make sure there is no danger of someone hearing. Satisfied, she continues. “When I first arrived on Earth, I didn’t even know how to hold a pen,” she confesses, “the Danvers had to teach me.”

Maggie’s eyes soften at the words, edges creasing as her smile turns gentle.

“I didn’t know that,” she says.

“Not many people do,” Kara responds, shrugging. She takes a couple of steps backwards, hands still on Maggie, pulling the shorter woman towards the bench in front of the blue painting. “Anyways,” she continues, “the point I was getting at is that, even the members of the Artisan Guild, they didn’t do art like Earth’s.”

“No paintings,” Maggie repeats, nodding along to Kara’s words.

“Exactly. No paintings, no murals, no tapestries, no pottery, very little in the way of sculptures or glasswork.”

“So what did they do then? The Artisan Guild, if not paint or any of that?” Maggie asks, head tilting and brows furrowing in confusion.

“I guess the human description that fits best is, um,” Kara trails off, thinking hard, “designers?”

“Like fashion designers?”

“Yes and no,” Kara says, letting go of Maggie so that they can sit. “Yes, in that they did design most of our uniforms and clothing. But no, in that mostly they were in charge of- of architecture. They designed our homes and monuments and temples. Oh! And furniture. But mostly architecture. Although on the bigger projects that required very precise engineering they worked closely with the Science Guild.”

“So Kryptonian art was architecture and fashion design,” Maggie says slowly.

“And furniture. Can’t forget the furniture.”

“Can’t forget the furniture,” Maggie repeats with a laugh.

Silence settles between them, infinitely more comfortable than the awkward one from earlier.

“What are you thinking?” Kara asks, curious about the contemplative look on Maggie’s face.

“Nothing,” Maggie replies, seemingly on automatic. “I guess I’m just having a hard time trying to imagine architecture as art,” she amends. “I mean- I  _know_  buildings can be pretty but, I feel like there’s kind of a limit on what you can do with the- uh. Medium.”

Kara hums in thought, tapping her fingers idly against her thigh, as she considers what to say.

(As she considers whether to even say anything at all)

“The most-” Kara’s voice cracks under the strain of remembrance. She clears her throat, avoiding Maggie’s bright eyes. “The most famous building in Argo City was made a couple hundred years before I was born. It was-” she gesticulates helplessly, “magnificent.”

(Still, the descriptor doesn’t seem enough)

“Have you ever heard of the golden ratio?” Kara asks.

“Yes. Alex made me watch Orphan Black” Maggie says, inclining her head and averting her eyes to the side, “It’s the way a shell looks, right? Like, the geometry.”

“Sure, it’s a mathematical relationship between the sum of two numbers and-” Kara breaks off sheepishly, “you don’t need to know the details. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Alex nerds out pretty often too. Plus, I’m no chump Danvers. Being part of the Science Division does entail having some science knowledge.”

“Huh, that makes sense.”

“Now what were you were saying? About the golden ratio?”

“Ah, yes! So the golden ratio can be seen as a spiral arrangement, right?” Kara says, demonstrating the shape with a motion of her hand.

“Right,” Maggie says, nodding sharply.

“Well, Argo City’s most famous building was built with the same principle in mind,” Kara claps her hands together. “Imagine a sky-scraper spiraling upwards, thousands of meters into the sky,” she continues, lifting her left hand upwards in a helical-like motion, until her arm is fully outstretched.

“Wait- did you say  _thousands_?” Maggie asks, eyes following Kara’s hand.

“Yes. Rumor has it that Eoria Lod-El, the Artisan who designed it, wanted the edifice to be tall enough to graze our atmosphere,” Kara lowers her hand, “She didn’t quite manage it. I’m not sure if it was lack of permission or lack of means, but- in the end, it still became the tallest building in Argo.”

Kara presses the tip of her ring finger against the spot under her clavicle where the sharp warmth of remembering Krypton resides. She ducks her head so she can meet Maggie’s eyes.

“When Rao reached his highest point, his light would refract through the spiraling crystal and bathe the city in vibrant reds and oranges,” she breathes out reverently. “During Holy Days, we would hang pigmented crystals in certain floors so that neighboring buildings would be seeped in colors and- gosh, I can’t even describe it,” Kara struggles for words that can convey the feeling currently playing a muted but lively brass at the edges of her memory. “I remember watching from my window and thinking it… divine. As if Rao had blessed us all.”

“Wow,” Maggie whispers, tone a little awed, “it sounds… wow.”

“It was very wow,” Kara says, “this painting reminds me of that.”

“Really?” Maggie asks, attention turning fully onto the painting in question.

“Mhhmm.”

“But it’s blue. Just blue,” Maggie says, confused.

“Nothing isn’t  _just_  something,” Kara retorts.

“Deep,” Maggie says sarcastically. 

It surprises a wheezing laugh out of Kara. She recovers enough to say, “You’re interpreting it too literally. Look past the color. What catches your eye?”

“Hmmm,” Maggie squints at the painting for a long moment. Kara waits patiently, unbothered by the silence.

(Awed that Maggie is taking the time to look. To try to figure out what it is that Kara sees)

Finally, hesitantly, almost bashfully, Maggie speaks. “Is it the pattern? It almost looks curved.”

Kara smiles. “Partly, but not the only reason. Step a little closer.”

Maggie nods, standing and taking a few steps forwards. She stares some more, outstretching a hand as if to touch the canvas.

Kara knows Maggie gets it when she hears Maggie’s sharp intake of air. The quintessential sign of surprise. It’s followed by a minuscule gasp of awe.

“The paint strokes,” Maggie breathes out.

“I know,” Kara agrees, moving so she can stand next to Maggie.

This close, even human vision can pick up what Kara could see from feet back: long spiraling strokes of different hues of blue. The thinness of the lines belying the use of a small brush. More than that though, it is the placement of the strokes, one thin line next to the other, overlapping slightly at the edges, creating minuscule ridges that collect the light in just the right way. Creating tiny shadows that seem to multiply until the large canvas, covered entirely by blue, seems to curve in on itself. 

There’s a painstakingness to that kind of detail. A reverence there that reminds Kara of the awe she has always associated with Krypton’s tallest edifice.

Together, Kara and Maggie continue staring at the painting in silence.

  


* * *

  


“So, it’s kind of fascinating. Rothko’s trick with diluting paint with turpentine meant that he was basically painting  _into_  the canvas. Combine that with the thin paint layering and you get that cool effect you noticed. Where the colors underneath the darker layers are still visible,” Kara says excitedly, splaying her fingers in the air, so that the setting sun can be seen between them.

“But what about the weird direction of the paint? Did he paint upwards? How did he manage that?” Maggie asks. She’s turned towards Kara, left arm resting against the steering wheel, chin in hand.

“He turned the paintings upside down to dry!”

“Oooh that’s clever.”

“It is! Also-”

Maggie’s laugh derails Kara’s thought train.

(In her defense, it is a very nice laugh, full-bodied and warm and with a pleasant timbre)

“Sorry, it’s just that- we’ve been at your place for the last twenty minutes Kara,” Maggie points out, gesturing past the window, where indeed, Kara can see the outside of her apartment building.

“Oh. Right,” Kara smiles at Maggie sheepishly, “sorry for that.”

“It’s fine. I’d love to stay longer, but I have to clock in at work soon,” Maggie says, “monthly mandatory night shift.”

“All right, I’ll let you go now. Thank you for today though, I had a lot of fun,” Kara says sincerely.

“I enjoyed myself too. Learned a lot,” Maggie hesitates, running her hands nervously along the steering wheel, “I’d be down with doing something again down the line. If you want.”

“That’d be cool. But it should be something you enjoy next,” Kara says, abashedly ducking her head a little. “Maybe we could start with that dinner you mentioned. I hear you’re also a fan of Italian desserts.”

“You heard right Danvers,” Maggie says, dimpled smile returning.

Kara opens the door and steps out of the car, but then hesitates. She leans back inside through the rolled down window.

“Thank you. For trying. And for listening. About art. And Krypton. I don’t get to talk often about either,” she admits.

Maggie reaches out a hand to squeeze Kara’s.

“Anytime.”

  


* * *

  


Kneeling, Kara smiles tremulously. Bright eyes and a sad tilt to her lips.

“Hi.”

A distracted smile is flashed in her direction as blue eyes scan documents with the bleariness borne from hours of work.

“Sorry. I know I know. I work too much. I promise that as soon as I am done we can go see the stars.”

A soft choked laugh escapes from between Kara’s lips.

“I think I must be dreaming,” she says. “You’re not really here.”

Kara’s spine curves, head bowing slightly. Just enough to allow her to keep looking up at steady blue eyes from under lashes.

“But you know that already don’t you?” she continues.

A head crowned in brown and a solid stripe of white tilts forwards. Brows tilt towards each other and lines along the corners of eyes deepen. 

Alone, the actions are meaningless. Together, they make steely blue eyes look softer.

“Does it matter? You’re safe here.”

“And everyone else? Are they safe too?”

“Oh, Kara, my darling girl. You were always the best of us all.”

Kara leans closer to her Aunt

(the aunt she remembers: gentle and overworked and good)

“Know that I loved you Kara. Until the very end.”

Kara’s hand rises and carefully. Gently. Reverently. She slides it onto the back of Astra’s neck, palm heavy with affection. Her fingers curl slowly and pull, until foreheads brush against the other’s shoulder.

(The mostly forgotten alien farewell of a dead people)

The world trembles around them, inky blackness creeping closer and closer and closer.

“You should wake up, my little star walker. A world calls for you.”

(What does one say to a loved one at the end of it all?)

“May Rao’s light-”

A blink and blackness coalesces into darkness.

  


* * *

  


Kara wakes up. Calmly puts on her suit. Flies out her window.

(Rockets into the ocean and screams)

  


* * *

**  
**

**Alex**  
U hav fun yesterday?

 **Kara**  
Lots. We saw Mark Rothko’s /Rust and Blue/ and /Black on Maroon/. It was awesome!

 **Alex**  
Gr8!

 **Kara**  
We also talked about Krypton. Just about art though, I promise

_trring-trring-trring_

“Kara-”

“I know I shouldn’t have but- but Maggie was being  _so_  nice and there was this painting and I’m so sorry,” Kara says, interrupting whatever scolding Alex was about to-

“No, Kara, sweetie, you did nothing wrong. You can talk to Maggie about anything ok. I know…” Alex trails off.

They breathe, Kara plucking at her cape in mid-air, waiting for Alex to gather her thoughts. They breathe.

(She should tell Alex about the bar. Rao, she should-)

“I know- I know we’ve never talked about Krypton much. Even less after-” a sharp inhale of air crackles from the speakers, “after what I- what I did. But, Kara. That doesn’t mean you can’t talk about your home with others ok?”

“Alex,” Kara pauses, tries to get the words out.

(‘ _I made a mistake_ ’

Or: ‘ _I dreamed of Aunt Astra_ ’

Or _: ‘I can’t stop screaming’_ )

Before she can say anything though, Alex calls her name again.

“No no. Kara listen to me,” she says, tone somehow both forceful and gentle, “Kara, listen. We- we tried to protect you for so long… We put so much importance on you fitting in and acting less alien for so long that- that I think we forgot that, sometimes… that sometimes you might have needed to be a bit alien. That sometimes-”

Kara is crying. Silent tears that turn into choked sobs before she can stop herself.

“Kara,” Alex lets out a small sob as well, “what is it you said? Sorry for not- for not creating an environment where I felt like I could talk to you about- about everything? Well, I’m sorry too. That we only ever talked about your secret in context of your powers and the terrible things that could happen if you ever- but we never- I am so sorry Kara. I am so  _so_  sorry.”

Both of them are crying now. Although, Kara is such a mess of emotions she doesn’t even know  _why_  she’s crying.

(Another lie.

Kara knows why she’s crying:

She’s crying with relief.   
The overpowering relief behind finally understanding- finally understanding the messed up logic explaining Kara’s latest mistake. She’s crying with relief at finally being able to go ‘ _this. This is why I did it_ ’.

She’s crying a little from anger as well.   
Anger at the fact that Alex decided to address this  _now_ \- after Kara has been struggling for  _days_. Heck, after Kara has been struggling for  _years_.

And grief.   
She’s crying due to the ever-present grief of a missing home and a lost family and a dead world)

They cry for a long moment, until Kara re-composes herself enough to swallow down the sobs and blurt out: “Maggie is kind of awesome.”

“I know right,” says Alex, voice phlegmy and wet.

“And she totally thinks you’re the nerdiest person ever,” Kara teases, flicking tears away from her face.

Alex laughs and laughs and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one probably won’t take so long.  
> Also, I'll try to get through all your comments today.  
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think


	5. And so, with an Escape, an old Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner interrupted by an escaped prisoner causing problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something a little new here. Let me know what you think.

i.

As has become routine, Kara flies into the DEO late at night, a few hours past the moment where one day bleeds into the next. And, just in time to join Agent Vasquez for her lunch break.

Except, as is not routine, Kara is greeted at the DEO’s balcony by one J’onn J’onzz, standing imposingly tall.

“Supergirl,” he says, inclining his head in greeting.

“Hi J’onn? Is everything alright?” Kara asks, worried that she’s missed some new disaster, “I didn’t hear anything on the comms.”

“No, things are quiet,” J’onn reassures. “I just realized that, with everything that’s been going on. The budget cuts, Cadmus, the president requesting reports… I have not checked in with you in a while.” He fidgets minutely, a barely perceptible shuffling of feet, “How are you?”

Kara inspects his face carefully, taking note of the slight downturn of his lips, the tilt of his brows, the softness of his gaze. His arms aren’t crossed, his posture is open, his knees slightly bent so as to be closer to eye-level with her. 

He’s worried. But there’s a certainty behind the concern, as if he knows there’s a reason for it.

(But Alex had yesterday off, so he can’t know about Kara’s small breakdown over the phone. Maggie hasn’t been in the DEO since the Cadmus abductions. Kara hasn’t talked to Winn outside of pleasantly superficial greetings since the Guardian thing, which is too old a news to be behind J’onn’s gruff concern. 

The only thing then is-)

“Vasquez told you I’m not sleeping huh?”

His lips thin and his jaw tightens. So much so that it looks almost painful. Kara waits him out though, knowing her instinct is right.

“Not in so many words,” he finally admits.

“Ah. You read her mind.”

“Unintentional. She was thinking quite loudly about it. Worrying,” J’onn says. He puts a warm solid hand on Kara’s shoulder and lets the silence stretch for a beat longer. “You do know- you know you can come to me for anything right?”

Kara gulps, trying to swallow past the sudden tightness in her throat, the fondness and love sticking to the roof of her mouth. Before she can stop herself, Kara hugs J’onn, burying her nose under his collar, taking comfort from the familiar sharp scent of metal clinging to him, mixing with the powdery scent of his deodorant. J’onn hugs back tightly enough that she can feel the pressure, a warm settling weight over her shoulder blades.

(Love binds us all)

“I love you J’onn,” she whispers.

He doesn’t have to say it back. She can feel it in the tightening of his hug, in the way he turns his head just enough to be able to press his lips onto her hairline. 

Distantly, she hears the sound of gunshots. Reluctantly, she steps back from the hug, pointing a thumb over her shoulder to indicate her need to leave.

(She’s not sure she can speak without her voice breaking) 

J’onn smiles softly.

“Go Supergirl.”

  


* * *

  


ii.

It’s Guardian.

More specifically:

It’s Guardian in a near-empty parking structure, ducked behind a bullet-riddled car, stuck between two groups shooting at each other. 

The sight makes Kara feel a white flash of anger. 

She lands right next to James and pushes his head down, away from the bullet that would have given him, at the very least, a dented helmet and nasty concussion. She pulls him onto his feet and stands close, deflecting the bullets coming their way.

“Leave,” she growls, herding him towards the staircase exit, utterly and completely furious.

“Super-”

“I called the cops,” she says, interrupting what surely was about to be some moronic entreaty to stay, “they are five minutes out. You don’t want to even be near here when they arrive.”

She pushes the door to the staircase open and shoves James inside. Then, teeth bared and eyes burning, she turns around and stalks towards the trigger-happy idiots who think themselves gunslingers. 

  


* * *

  


iii.

 **Kara**  
Sorry for missing lunch today. Bunch of stupidly stubborn men being stubbornly stupid.

 **Susan**  
And here I thought you were finally getting some sleep. 

**Kara**  
Nope. Just dealing with geniuses who keep shooting even when it is /obvious/ my skin is impervious to their bullets. 

**Kara**  
Anyways, is Hank still there? 

**Susan**  
Probably not. He usually heads out before this shift 

**Kara**  
Could you check anyways? Please?

 **Susan**  
What’s in it for me ma’am?

 **Kara**  
I’ll bring you baklava from Avi’s Grill :)

 **Susan**  
Deal

 **Susan**  
Director Henshaw is still here.

 **Kara**  
Thanks Susan! You’re the best!

 **Susan**  
Duh 

  


* * *

  


iv.

Kara knocks on J’onn’s office door, causing him to look up from his paperwork in surprise.

“Lunch?” she asks, holding up a bagful of gyros. 

“I’d like that,” he says, smiling in that rare manner Kara loves to see, all squinty eyes and creased cheeks.

“Awesome, I also brought Chocos. For dessert you know.”

J’onn laughs.

  


* * *

  


v.

“I can’t sleep,” Kara confesses quietly, eyes on the spiced lamb meat that has fallen out of her gyro. She can feel dark eyes on her, even as her meal companion stays quiet, patiently waiting for her to continue. “I don’t need much anyways but this- this is different. I keep getting restless. Thoughts just buzzing inside-” she taps above her right eyebrow. “And, the few times I’m calm enough to fall asleep… I keep having these _dreams_.”

Silently, they chew on their food for a few minutes, contemplating her words.

“Nightmares?” J’onn finally asks.

(Kara thinks back to her dream of Astra, warm and emotive, saying farewell through gesture. 

She remembers the way darkness had seeped into the dream, inky and heavy. Remembers waking up to memories of an echoing void stretching out indefinitely past her vision. Without stars, without hope, without end.

Kara thinks of whispering thoughts screaming ‘is this real?’ 

Thinks of childhood stories about a ‘Zone full of phantoms, the echoes of inhabitants gone mad.’

Remembers the echoes of a whisper: ‘little starwalker trapped in a starless world’)

“Yes. Nightmares,” she croaks. 

“Of?” J’onn prompts, taking a sip from his soda pop.

“Pfft. The usual,” Kara says, flapping her right hand back and forth. “People I couldn’t save, Krypton exploding, Myriad succeeding. Honestly, it’s just been a rough year. I’m sure things will get better once things settle down a bit.” 

J’onn just looks at her with that solemn gaze of his. 

  


* * *

  


vi.

“How about you? How are you with everything that has been going on? Have you spoken to M’gann lately?” Kara asks, unwrapping her fourth gyro slowly, making sure none of the foil sticks to it.

“Not really, no.”

“Why?” she asks, taking a bite out of her food, “I thought you had forgiven her for-”

“I have,” J’onn interrupts. “But that- it- it doesn’t make being around her easier.” 

Kara chews thoughtfully, trying to make sense of the words.

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

“She makes me remember Mars,” J’onn says, carefully opening one of the packs of Chocos she had brought. “More than I already do.”

“I-” Kara frowns, unsure of what to say, “I know- I know I haven’t lived or experienced as much as you J’onn but- remembering. Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, taking a bite out of his cookie. “They- Even the good memories…” he trails off.

(Kara understands)

“They ache still.”

“Yes.”

“They always will, I think,” she admits. She sets down what’s left of her gyro, grabbing a couple of napkins to clean her hands. 

After a moment, she speaks again, “Is it wrong you think? Not wanting to ache?”

J’onn stares as she takes one of the unused napkins and begins shredding it into tiny strips. 

“It’s just,” Kara looks at J’onn in the eye, “I am so tired sometimes. Of remembering and hurting because of it. But- but then I feel guilty because- if I don’t remember, who will?”

J’onn nudges his Choco’s packet closer to her. Her lips pull at the corners at the gesture, a small smile emerging. She takes a cookie.

“I have a similar fear,” J’onn admits, “I am afraid that if I share these memories, then I might lose them. Forget them all. I know it’s an irrational fear but, still-”

A shrill alarm begins blaring loudly.

  


* * *

  


vii.

On a pleasant Monday morning, just before twilight, five prisoners escape their DEO cells.

At the time, no one knows how they manage it.

(Later it would be determined that one Jeremiah Danvers had tampered with the cell block’s settings in his brief time back, allowing for a slow weakening of the barrier’s structural integrity)

Ultimately, what matters is that inmate T0219, under the cover of a dark sky and some judicious use of waste tubing, escapes and reaches the desert. 

Supergirl chases after it.

  


* * *

  


viii.

Kara lands gently on top of a tall sand dune and flops onto her back. She stares at the clear skies for a moment, trying to ignore her rumbling stomach.

She’s exhausted. She’s been chasing an escaped Eigessian across the desert for three days now.

The species is a wily one whose home planet was more sand and grit than anything, giving it an appearance and physiology similar to that of horned lizards.

Needless to say, it’s been almost impossible to locate the camouflaged being.

On the positive side, they’ve covered enough ground that they’ve reached the Kelso Dunes of the Mojave. 

(She’s always wanted to try-)

Kara carefully sits up. She balances on her arms for a second, close to the edge of the dune and then-

she scoots down. 

Her boots cut through the smooth sand and form ridges that grow until an avalanche of sand tumbles down the dune. Microscopic grains of sand move down and collide with each other over and over until hundreds of collisions are occurring and-

a low-pitch rumble, growing in volume until- 

the desert _sings_. 

Sings in a thrumming low G sharp that sinks into her bones, into her being, until it’s as if she’s vibrating at the same frequency.

Kara lets her senses go, uncoils them from where she holds them close to her skin until she sinks, breathless, into her surroundings. Sinks into the buzzing of the lizard sleeping amongst the dunes, into the taste of whistling air currents above her head, into the rasp of sand grains pressing against her skin.

Sinks into the earth until she’s boundless.

Immeasurable. Immense.

(Finally, _finally_ matching the vastness of feeling within her chest)

It doesn’t last.

She feels a disturbance in her surroundings. Sand shifts and suddenly she can smell the oily secretion coating the Eigessian’s pores, preventing moisture from leaving its scaled skin. Grains of sand slide away from under her boots and-

she explodes into movement, twists under the double-jointed appendages reaching for her and slides a leg behind its ankle, yanking it and unbalancing the Eigessian enough for it to lean forwards.

She surges upwards and wraps an arm around its neck until she has it in a headlock. She kicks at the ground and swings her body around, quickly wrapping her legs around a flailing arm, until she’s on the Eigessian’s back. She pushes her entire weight onto the wildly bucking alien, trying to pin it against the ground.

(She could totally kick butt in a rodeo)

A particularly violent movement makes her grit her teeth and tighten her hold more and more until she can hear the way her arm disrupts the alien’s air flow. The Eigessian’s struggles begin to weaken. 

(Golly she’s doing it! Days of nonstop chase, night and day, plus the odd short scuffle, and now she has it!)

Then the Eigessian suddenly… expands. Blows up like a freaking puffer fish until sharp scales dig into her skin and her arms are forcefully pushed apart from the force of the expansion. A green secretion oozes out from between the raised scales covering its shoulder blades, getting onto her suit. 

Kara yelps and scrambles backwards, quickly leaping to her feet and putting her fists up, ready to rumble. The alien remains immobile though. Kara nudges it gently with the tip of her boot, but it doesn’t budge.

Relieved, Kara sits then flops onto her back. She feels some, uh, gunk (for lack of a better word) slide uncomfortably under her collar but, like, whatever, she’s too tired to bother.

Instead, she scratches at some of the encrusted sand covering her chest for a bit then reaches for the backup phone and calorie-bar she carries in her cape pocket.

She dials the first number on speed dial and lays the phone on her chest so she can focus on opening the foil covering her snack.

“Supergirl?” Alex asks.

“Well that sucked.”

Alex’s laughter drifts out from the phone speakers, staticky and sharp.

“Big time,” Alex agrees, “We finally caught the last of the others and now we’re sorting out the cells trying to figure out how they escaped. You bringing yours in?”

Kara feels her fingers begin to tingle uncomfortably. Uh-oh. She tries to stand back up but she can’t, her legs don’t seem to be cooperating. Quickly, she shoves the calorie bar into her mouth and chews fast.

“I knocked it out,” she tells Alex, “but it hit me with… something.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few seconds before, “That didn’t sound very reassuring Supergirl. What did it hit you with? Should I send a team to your location?”

“Well, I can’t feel my legs so I’m guessing its some kind of paralyzing toxin. Soooo, yeah. A team sounds like a pretty good idea.”

“Fuck. Vasquez! Clear the channel I’m on,” Alex shouts. The tingling on her fingers has disappeared. Good sign? “I’m coming Kara. You better be fine when I get there, you hear me?”

“Okidoki,” Kara says, words slurring slightly as she tries to move her arms and- yep. Nothing. Bad sign then. Awesome. She does manage to turn her head though, enough to get the Eigessian back in her range of vision. Thankfully, it’s still slumped, unconscious.

“Kara. Kara!” she hears, somewhat distantly.

“Alex?” 

“Yes. Kara, try to stay alert ok. We got your location narrowed down to a 5 kilometer radius,” Alex says, “help me find you faster. What can you see?”

Kara knows it’s a lie, the DEO’s tracking tech can pinpoint a location way more accurately than a 5 kilometer radius. Still, she decides to humor Alex, not wanting her sister to freak out badly.

“The sun,” she says, “And- sand-”

“Could you to be more specific sweetie?”

“Ummm,” Kara’s vision is getting out of focus, as if she’s just crossed her eyes.

“Supergirl, what do you see?” Alex’s voice asks from somewhere, sounding tinny and gurgling. Kara obligingly tries to make out her surrounding but all she can see is-

“Sand. It’s really grainy though. The sand in Krypton was softer. Finer.”

“Did you go to the desert often in Krypton?” someone asks from- somewhere. Kara can’t really tell. 

“Did you go to the desert often in Krypton?” the same voice repeats, sounding more forceful now. 

“Not really,” Kara replies, “It was mainly during the _Do-Dehdh_ Festival. It’s a windy time. My family- we go to the Shifting Fields. There is this window of time where night falls for a few minutes, Rao taking his rest, and the moons align at just the right position to light up the Fields. And the wind- it moves the sand and, as it falls from the incredibly tall dunes. Like hundreds of feet tall! As the sand falls, we can hear Krypton sing.“

Kara hums, trying to recall the sounds from her memory. She hums until her vision grows spotty and her throat begins to hurt.

“Sounds beautiful Kara.”

“Thank- thank you,” Kara stumbles over the words, tongue heavy and jaw stiff.

A hand runs through her hair gently.

“Oh. Hi.” 

“Hey you,” the voice murmurs soothingly, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you ok”

“Ok. I’m sorry for thinking you were just a voice.”

The world fades to black.

  


* * *

  


ix.

Kara awakens slowly, sleep clinging to her limbs. She pushes through the tiredness and opens her eyes, taking stock of the bright sun lamps above her and the stiff soreness to her muscles that she’s only ever felt when powerless. Experimentally, she lifts her right arm slowly-

and groans at the painful sensation accompanying the pull of muscle.

“Yeah, you’re going to be sore a while,” Alex says from somewhere to Kara’s left. She turns her head, squinting against the light of the lamps to get a better view of her sister.

Alex looks fine. A weight Kara didn’t even know she was carrying lifts from her shoulders. Alex looks fine. A little dusty. A little worried. But whole and healthy and standing.

Still, Kara has to ask, “You guys ok then?”

“Yes, we’re fine. Actually, no one besides you got hurt,” Alex replies, sounding as relieved as Kara feels.

“Awesome,” Kara breathes out, wincing at how the movement makes her chest twinge in pain, “man, that thing got me good.”

“No kidding,” Alex deadpans. “Eigessian toxin. Turns out it’s pretty potent.” 

“No kidding,” Kara returns. She grimaces slightly at the cotton-stuffed feel of her mouth.

“Here,” Alex hands her a glass of water, worried frown returning as she watches Kara take long sips. “How’re you feeling? I was just about to check your vitals.”

“I think I feel fine,” Kara says. And it’s true. Other than the aches and stiffness.

“Yeah? Think you can sit up? Vasquez brought you food.” 

“Awesome!” Kara exclaims, suddenly aware of how hungry she is. She puts a palm against the table and tries to sit up but, when she tries to swing her legs to the side, only one of them obeys.

“Oh no.”

Her whisper catches Alex’s attention. “What? Kara what’s wrong?” she asks, placing a hand on Kara’s bicep. “Does anything hurt?”

“Um, no,” Kara says, “It’s kind of the opposite really.” She pokes her left leg. It’s odd, seeing the contact but not feeling it. “I think my left leg is still paralyzed,” she admits.

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Ok,” Alex says hurriedly, starting to pace besides Kara, “don’t panic, we’ll just run some tests and-”

“Alex,” Kara says.

“-maybe ask your AI about the toxin and-”

“Alex!” Kara exclaims.

“What?” Alex says, instantly zeroing in on Kara.

“Breathe,” Kara says, “I’m fine. I’m not panicking.”

“You’re not?”

“Everything else seems to be working. I can’t hear much so I’m pretty sure I just Flared halfway through healing. Once I get my powers back I’ll probably be fine,” Kara says soothingly. She grabs Alex’s hand and squeezes it as tight as she can. Alex isn’t even fazed. “See. No powers.”

Alex lets out a sigh of relief then hugs Kara tightly. “Right. Right that makes sense,” she says. In return, Kara just reciprocates Alex’s hug, delighting in being able to put as much strength behind it as she wants to.

“You mentioned food?”

  


* * *

  


x.

“How did you know how to get through the sewers?”

“I did live in the city for a while before getting thrown in here,” prisoner T0219 says, opening its arms wide to encompass the cell.

“Huh. That must have been hard with your whole…” she flaps her hand a bit in its direction, trying to indicate its leathery scaliness.

“I stayed out of sight,” it replies, dry as the desert.

“Still. The DEO captured you on August of 2005. The NOS-ECIS wasn’t in service yet. Heck, the NEIS wasn’t even finished until November of the next year.”

“You keen on city engineering, child?” it asks, leaning against the barrier between them, lips stretched in what Kara assumes is probably a mocking smile.

“There was an earthquake recently,” she says with a shrug. “The city had to close a lot of the sewer tunnels because they were unstable.”

“Tunnels are simple,” it says dismissively. “Just kept going straight, really.”

“No. There was extensive damage. I helped with some of the earlier repairs before the city got a good contractor,” Kara says. “Heck, I don’t think they’re even done with the repairs yet. How did you know where to go? How did you reach the desert so fast? I mean, we’re close but not that close.”

Prisoner T0219 ignores the question, instead picking at some of the sand underneath its scales. Kara refuses to move though. She knows she’s onto something. The timing just doesn’t make sense. Idly, she rubs at her left thigh, trying to smooth down the small crease on her pants that she was unable to iron out this morning. The prisoner catches the movement and laughs.

“How’s the leg?” it asks, smile turning predatory. “Still without feeling I gather?”

Kara shifts on her crutches, bending a little so she can press both palms against her useless leg. The pressure doesn’t register. Just like it hadn’t last night, when she had woken up.

“It’s been an adjustment,” she replies airily. “Turns out the DEO is kind of an unfriendly environment for the handicapped. Weird, right?”

“You’re lucky,” the prisoner says softly, dropping the Evil McMonster act. “The toxin is usually deadly.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Kara says drolly, “Is it an involuntary thing? Or do you control it?”

“Involuntary,” it admits sheepishly, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill anyone.”

“Yeah, I figured that was the case when an agent let me know no one else was harmed by the toxin.”

Kara hobbles a little closer to the barrier, lifting her head so she can look at the prisoner’s face.

“How did you reach the desert so fast?” she asks again, voice firm.

“Do you know why I was imprisoned in Fort Rozz?” it asks in return, deflecting.

Kara sighs, slumping against her crutches. She figured the Eigessian wouldn’t answer any of her questions but she’s still a little disappointed. 

“Interplanetary being trafficking,” she says, humoring it. Maybe she can still get some kind of hint out of it.

“Tsk tsk. So narrow-minded,” it says, rolling its eyes, “I smuggled desperate beings from all walks of life. Refugees, rebels, thieves, freedom-fighters, immigrants, pirates.”

“You almost make it sound noble,” Kara says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Not very noble perhaps,” it says, shrugging, the human gesture looking well-practiced, comfortable. “But certainly necessary.”

Kara cracks.

“Funny thing is,” she seethes, shuffling closer until her nose is practically grazing the barrier, “I remember you. The Inter-Planetary Association of our neighboring sector had a bounty for your hands.” 

The tan scales along the Eigessian’s shoulders stand on end, showing its disquiet at her pronouncement. Kara keeps her voice low. “I believe you used them to strangle a Lantern to death. Then you went and used them to murder the rest of the Lantern’s family. _See_ ,” Kara taps her temple, “I remember you. Tell me, _Remiel Maol_ , were all those murders necessary too?”

“The Lantern had wronged me. I had a right to mete out justice,” it replies, furious at her casual use of it’s name, the highest insult in Eigess.

“Justice?” she scoffs, “There is no justice in murder.”

Remiel slams against the barrier in fury. “And what would Alura In-Ze’s daughter know about justice?” it roars, “Was it not your mother who doomed us all? Was it not her so-called _justice_ what left us out in the maddening void of the Zone?”

“I think you might have been mad long before the Zone,” Kara says, calm now in the face of Remiel’s anger.

“You are but a child,” it scoffs, “What do you know about madness?”

“Plenty,” she replies curtly, turning to leave, knowing it won’t give her any information.

“Damn you. Damn you all! Krypton got what it deserved,” Remiel seethes, eyes bright, muscles bulging as it pounds against the barrier. “Damn your children and your elders and your scholars! May Rao forsake them all!” It slides to its knees and, still hitting the barrier, starts sobbing. “I just wanted to be free. I just wanted to be _free_.”

  


* * *

  


xi.

Kara lets the barrier fall. 

Kara lets the barrier fall and steps forwards, reaching down so she can put her arms around the kneeling alien’s neck. The angle is awkward but still, she holds on tightly, wincing a little as the sobbing alien grips back tightly, large knuckles digging into her back painfully.

Still, she doesn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section of my draft was originally called A Chapter of Snippets because I Suck at Transitions. 
> 
> Also, fudge. Five chapters in and I still can’t get to the main plot. I have the next two chapters half-written and… you guessed it, no plot in them either. I’m pretty sure most of you don’t care about plot in this particular fic so I’m not too _too_ worried. But, it would’ve been nice to actually start tying up loose ends and give you guys the excitement of some forward momentum instead of this aimless meandering I’m doing. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you still are enjoying this. Let me know what you think in the comments! I always try to answer back. Plus, my tumblr askbox is always open.


	6. And so, with the Game, some Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara decides to be brave  
> (Yes, even more so than usual)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more dialogue-heavy than usual so expect a way more utilitarian prose. Similar snippet-like structure as last one. Hope you enjoy!

Kara lies on the floor, back pressed against cool concrete, limbs spread out haphazardly, and head turned sideways so she can stare blankly at the grey DEO walls. 

(Her mind feels sluggish and tired, unfocused in a way that makes it feel as if time is passing by at a crawling rate)

The slight clearing of a throat startles her back into focus. Kara turns her head, hair tickling at the base of her neck, until she can see-

“Oh. Hi J’onn,” she says to the Martian currently bent at the waist, hands on hips, looking down at her with confusion.

“Hello,” J’onn says, voice gravelly, staring for a second longer before he, nodding to himself, sits down besides Kara’s legs, black pants a nice contrast to her tan corduroys.

As a comfortable silence settles over their little corner of the DEO, both staring thoughtfully at the corridor’s walls, Kara thinks back to the conversation she’s just had with prisoner T0219, mind stuck on the questions Remiel refused to answer.

“The timing is off J’onn. Something just isn’t right,” she says, lips downturned in a grim frown.

“I agree,” J’onn replies mildly, staring at the wall with his arms crossed.

(Hopefully he’s rethinking the color scheme. Although, drab walls _are_ kind of a hallmark for government buildings.

Perhaps it’s a bureaucratic requirement?)

“Remiel wouldn’t say anything about it,” Kara continues, shaking off thoughts on interior decoration.

“I saw,” he says.

(Ah. Right)

“You saw huh?” Kara asks breezily.

“I did,” J’onn replies, tone still pointedly even.

Kara winces.

“You’re angry.”

“I am.”

“The barrier?” she asks, thinking it the likely reason behind his frustration. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees J’onn incline his head in assent.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Kara says softly, guiltily scratching at her elbow.

“Well I did. You were powerless. You _are_ powerless.”

Kara touches her leg, still unused to the lack of feeling.

“I’m well aware,” she whispers grudgingly.

“It was reckless,” J’onn huffs.

“There were plenty of agents in the building. Remiel wouldn’t have gotten far.”

“It’s not about a prisoner possibly escaping,” J’onn says, shaking his head slowly. His dark eyes land on hers, gaze heavy and meaningful, “not completely.”

He reaches out hesitantly, hand gently settling on her right shoulder. 

Kara shudders slightly at the contact. Without her powers, his hand feels warmer than usual, the small spot of warmth contrasting sharply with the coolness of the wall, the floor, the air conditioned current lightly gusting through the corridor.

“What is it about then?” she asks.

“You could have been killed.”

Kara shrugs.

“I wasn’t.” 

“It was an unnecessary risk,” J’onn insists, brow furrowing at her nonchalance.

“Not to me.”

“Remiel Maol is a murderer and a thief and a liar.”

“I am aware,” she replies waspishly, shrugging so she can get her shoulder out of his loose grip. 

(She dislikes it when people talk down to her. As if she’s some sort of sheltered child who doesn’t understand how the world works or how brutal reality can be.

Condescending jerk-faces.

Krypton may have been the sector’s most outspoken proponent of peace, good at negotiating ceasefires and brokering peace, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own struggles and internal strife. 

Violence may have been rare but corruption? Political maneuvering and dishonesty and prejudice? Way more universal than one might think.

Moreover, Kara has superpowers for Rao’s sake. She’d inadvertently seen and heard more of humanity’s cruelty and callousness in her first decade on Earth than most of its inhabitants do in lifetimes.

Jeez)

A little ticked off, Kara clenches her jaw and meets J’onn’s gaze head on. He doesn’t look away. 

“Few- few beings are more undeserving of kindness,” he says hoarsely, certain, as if speaking a fundamental truth.

It smothers the spark of anger inside Kara’s chest, leaving behind nothing but a hollow sort of emptiness. She lets her head loll against the floor, suddenly feeling exhausted and inexplicably sad. 

(Always sad)

“Oh J’onn,” she breathes out. “It’s not about who deserves what.”

“Then what is it about?”

Kara idly traces small circles against the floor, ruminating over the question, turning it around and around in her head. Trying to find a thoughtful answer.

“It’s about me,” she finally says. 

At J’onn’s hum, Kara slides her hand across the floor until it covers his. He tilts his hand slightly, allowing her to interlock their fingers.

“It’s about who I am trying to be.”

The light grip on her hand tightens.

///

“Do you need a lift home?” J’onn asks, letting go of Kara’s hand slowly, uncurling his fingers one by one. 

“It’s fine,” she says, “I was just going to wait for Alex.”

“Very well,” J’onn says, pressing against the ground to lift himself to his feet. Before he can walk away though, Kara tugs at the cuff of his pants, uncharacteristically untucked from his boots. He inclines his head down so he can look at her.

“There’s,” Kara stops, unsure if she should ask. 

(It’s a painful thing, realizing there’s hesitance.

Asking a loved one something shouldn’t come with so much doubt or reluctance)

At her pause, J’onn softens, forehead wrinkling as he inclines his head further, looking at her with that squinty half-smile he does when being encouraging. Kara laughs a little, trying to dispel some of her nervousness. 

“There’s a little spot nearby,” she continues shyly, “that serves pozole at this hour.”

J’onn looks surprised at the unasked question.

(This hurts too, seeing proof of the slight distance that has grown between them since- 

Since Jeremiah)

Finally, J’onn speaks, squinty smile mellowing into a quiet sort of grin. “I haven’t had pozole in years.”

“We should change that then,” Kara says, smiling up fondly at this Martian man whose enduring steadiness is only outsized by his heart.

“We should,“ J'onn agrees, proffering a hand.

Kara, beaming, takes it.

///

“Sorry but I think that’s a little dumb,” Kara says, rolling her tortilla carefully.

“Really? I find it reasonable for the most part,” J’onn says, adding some cilantro and chopped onions to his steaming bowl.

The restaurant they’re at is the prototypical mom-and-pop place, small but warm and fragrant in the best way. Kara makes it a point to eat here at least once every month, usually on Saturday mornings, which is when they serve pozole. 

(Gotta support local businesses after all)

“Sansa is practically the Queen of the North!” she says, waving her rolled up tortilla around empathetically. “She has more political acumen than any Northerner still alive. If anyone can win the Iron Throne it’s her!”

“But Daenerys is the equivalent of an up and coming populist leader. Plus, she’s rightful heir to the old dynasty and,” J’onn points his spoon at her, “she does have fire-breathing lizards.”

“Ehh, everyone knows dragons are unreliable,” Kara dismisses, dipping her tortilla into the warm stew placed in front of her. “Anyways, you call her a populist leader but the numerous times she’s had to put on a violent show of strength sort of disproves that.”

“Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with Cersei?” J’onn argues sarcastically, before blowing softly at his spoonful of pozole to cool it down.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Kara replies, grumpily chewing on her broth-soaked tortilla.

Spoon in mouth, J’onn’s lips twitch into something close to a self-satisfied smile, obviously pleased with himself.

“I thought it was moderately humorous.” 

Kara snorts at his deadpan delivery, almost choking as her food goes down the wrong pipe. She spends a few seconds coughing, during which J’onn doesn’t look concerned in the slightest. She narrows watery eyes at him. 

(What a meanie)

“I still insist Sansa would be best. She’s learned all about the barbarities and manipulations of men at the epicenter of the kingdom’s corruption and greed and still,” Kara clears her burning throat, “she’s survived.”

“An instinct for survival doesn’t make one a leader,” J’onn says, shaking his head slightly, spreading sour cream on a tostada with an enviable evenness.

“I don’t know,” Kara says, shoveling a few more spoonfuls of stew into her mouth, “it might. For example, I think you’re doing pretty well at it.”

“Well, I do have a couple of centuries of life experience,” J’onn says, nodding agreeably as he adds a little salt to his tostada.

They smile at each other again, joyous at getting to spend time together talking and eating and gently teasing. 

“Anyways,” Kara continues, “I don’t even think it’s instinctual for Sansa. I mean, she did initially _like_ Joffrey. Those seem like some pretty terrible instincts.”

J’onn snorts, obviously amused. He munches on his tostada for a bit, crunch audible even with his mouth closed, before he asks, “So what are you saying?”

“That I think she’s canny,” Kara smiles at the server who approaches to refill their glasses with horchata water. “And a fast learner. And she’s learned to question her judgment enough for her to avoid making the same kind of rash stubborn decisions that got everyone into this mess in the first place.”

“You think she learned to be cautious,” J’onn summarizes.

Kara shrugs.

“I think she learned to survive.”

At J’onn’s contemplative look, Kara claps her hands in delight. “You agree!” she crows, feeling giddily victoriously.

J’onn rolls his eyes, before admitting, “On that point, a little. Although, I still think Daenerys will prevail in the end.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, both focusing on their meal for a few minutes. Once his plate is almost empty, J’onn swirls his horchata water pensively.

“Do you think it’s true?” he asks, “That the things we do for survival define us?”

“Why do you ask?” Kara says, frowning a little.

“I called Maol a killer and a thief and a liar. But at some point or another, in trying to survive-” J’onn points at his face, “in pretending to be Hank Henshaw, I’ve been those things too. And now, I can’t help but wonder if…”

“If that is who you truly are?” Kara asks, understanding dawning.

J’onn nods solemnly.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Kara says haltingly, mulling over the rest of her answer, wanting to give J’onn something reassuring or insightful 

(or at least a little thoughtful) 

“I think they become part of us in a bone-deep kind of way. They can’t be shaken off easily,” she pauses solemnly, “they probably _shouldn’t_ be shaken off easily.”

(She thinks of her constant reluctance to even speak of Krypton. Of her panic at revealing herself as anything other than human. 

She thinks of the act, the deception, which she has kept up for so long that sometimes- sometimes she wonders at how it seems embedded into her very being. As if she was never anything but goofy and mild-mannered Kara Danvers)

Kara clears her throat roughly.

“But no. I think who we truly are- it can’t be encapsulated by who we are forced to be in order to survive,” she finishes. 

“Then what defines a person then?”

“I’m not sure,” she admits. “What do you think?”

“I like to think that- that maybe you were right earlier,” J’onn replies slowly, carefully, with a sense of gravitas that betrays his age. “It’s about who we decide to be.”

  


* * *

  


ii. 

Kara wakes with a start. She sits up quickly, feeling increasingly disoriented the longer she goes without being able to hear her surroundings.

A hand lands on her shoulder, causing her to jump, startled.

"Breathe, breathe,” a voice says to her right, features hidden by the dark.

Kara breathes as instructed, waiting a bit for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of her surroundings.

Finally calm, she can make out the figure to her right: short hair, DEO uniform, smelling slightly of powdered clothes detergent.

It’s Alex. 

They’re in Lucy’s office, empty since she’s gone to Washington to butt heads with Congress and other intelligence and law enforcement agencies.

(There’s a flicker at the edge of her vision, shadows coalescing into-)

Kara is in the DEO. In Lucy’s office because she misses her friend. And, because without her powers she feels her exhaustion a bit more acutely, she must have fallen asleep on the couch. That’s all. Alex just woke her up. 

That’s all.

(Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams)

Waking up means reality.

(Kara pretends to forget how under the Black Mercy she had woken to an intact Krypton. Pretends to forget how in the Phantom Zone she had woken to-)

“Kara?” Alex whispers, putting a hand on Kara’s shoulder, concerned. Kara shakes her head, pretends to forget, and marshals together a breathing pattern that doesn’t make her chest heave with effort.

“Hi, yes, sorry,” Kara says a little breathlessly, “just a little out of it from the nap. What time is it?”

“Just after six,” Alex responds, still sounding worried, “C’mon let’s take you home.”

“Ok,” Kara says, accepting Alex’s hands, which pull her to her feet. Kara wobbles for a second before stabilizing, reaching down for the crutches leaning against the couch, ignoring the feeling of vertigo that settles between her eyes at the rapid movement.

(Dreams are just dreams)

“How’s the leg?” Alex asks as Kara settles the crutches underneath her arms, wiggling her shoulders a little so that her shirt doesn’t bunch uncomfortably under her armpits.

“Still a bummer,” Kara smiles, “Ha. See what I did there?”

“A real word smith truly, how could I ever had-”  
  
_Chirp chirp_  
  
The chirping sound of an incoming text interrupts Alex’s stream of sarcasm. From the way her sister’s face lights up after unlocking her phone, Kara assumes it must be a text from Maggie.

“Hey, you want to have dinner at my place?” Alex asks, eyes still on her phone’s screen, the blue light illuminating her face eerily in the darkness of Lucy’s office. “Maggie’s making lasagna.”

Kara waves her off with a grin, enjoying the way Alex’s whole demeanor has softened, the way her expression has opened.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Hey. I insist,” Alex argues, looking up from her phone to nudge Kara with her hip lightly. “I, um- I haven’t seen you outside of this place,” she waves an arm in a wide arc, encompassing the entirety of the DEO, “in a while. It’d be nice to have a meal together.”

 _Oh_.

“Oh. Ok yeah. Sure.”

///

“Well well well. If it isn’t the Danvers sisters.”

Kara laughs breathily, stumbling into the apartment behind Alex, who instantly walks into the kitchen to kiss Maggie softly. The two women lean against each other for a moment, looking content.

“We heard there was food,” Alex says, stepping back from her girlfriend.

Maggie smiles, cheeks dimpling, eyes a liquid warmth. “Oh I see how it is. Just here for the food huh? And here I thought it was about my lovely company.” She shakes her head teasingly, smile unwavering.

“I think you’re lovely Maggie,” Kara says, running her fingers nervously along the aluminum edge of her crutch, feeling a little out of place in the face of their easy intimacy.

“See Danvers,” Maggie says, elbowing Alex lightly, laughing that clear lovely laugh of hers, “your sister’s got it figured out. Flattery gets you everywhere.”

“Does it now?” Alex asks, grabbing at the prodding elbow with a hand. 

“Uh-huh,” Maggie says, hooking a finger through Alex’s belt loop. Kara shifts awkwardly in place, not wanting to interrupt but unsure of where to sit. Or stand, really. 

“Well, in that case…” Alex trails off, wrapping her other arm around Maggie’s side until they’re close enough to look like they’re hugging, “I think you’re lovely, yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you’re also gorgeous.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Gorgeous and lovely and brave. And a fantastic cook,” Alex says drawing even closer, making Kara wonder if she should politely avert her eyes or something.

“Uh-huh,” Maggie murmurs, looking up at Alex with a softly wondrous look that Alex returns.

“Even if your lasagna is burning,” Alex faux-whispers, warm smile turning mischievous.

Maggie startles with a curse.

“Alex!”

Alex chuckles and waggles her eyebrows at Kara, who giggles lightly in response, amused and happy at seeing this side of Alex, affectionate and teasing and warm, outside of Sister’s Night. 

“Yeah yeah. Laugh it up you two,” Maggie grumbles good-naturedly from where she’s crouched by the oven. “Now be useful and set the table or something while I finish this.”

“Yes ma’am,” Alex and Kara say, high fiving when they realize they said it in unison.

Maggie grumbles a little louder.

///

Dinner is nice. 

Conversation flows easily with Kara prompting Maggie to tell funny stories from when she was a rookie cop, which then Alex tries to follows up with stories of her own from when she was just starting at the DEO. Kara doesn’t share as much, preferring to listen to the cadence of their words, the uneven rhythm of forks clinking against plates, the chirping from outside as birds begin to settle down atop trees and wires.

After the lasagna is demolished and the dishes are washed, Kara, hesitantly, reluctantly, makes to leave. 

“I should go,” Kara says softly, gathering her stuff. “Thanks for dinner Maggie. It was delicious.”

“No problem. But hey,” Maggie exchanges a quick glance with Alex, face cycling through a couple of expressions Kara can’t quite read, “you should stay a little longer. If you’d like. We were just going to settle down and watch some TV.”

“I,” at Maggie’s hopeful look, Kara relents, “I’d like that. Sure.”

“Movie night!” Alex crows, causing Maggie and Kara to laugh.

///

Full and warm, snuggled under a soft blanket besides Alex and Maggie as they bicker over what to watch on the TV, with someone running a hand lightly over her hair, Kara dozes off quickly.

She doesn’t dream.

  


* * *

  


iii.

[YouTube]

 **Supergirl Funny Snapchat Compilation Pt. 5**  
SupergirlRulez

 **Published Apr 10, 2017  
** Video compilation of funny Supergirl moments from the last 2 months.  
Thank you to everyone who submitted videos.  
Enjoy and don’t forget to subscribe for more funny Supergirl moments!  
SHOW MORE

101,005 views

COMMENTS - 2,427

 **Roomba232**  
Is it me or was this shorter than usual?  
View all 37 replies

 **That Cathedral Guy**  
Definitely shorter. Is Supergirl doing less?  
View all 52 replies

 **Dreamar**  
SUPERGIRL IS SO EFFING HILARIOUS I LOVE HER MARRY ME  
View all 12 replies

 **Maria Jimenez**  
Supergirl please come to Brasil  
View all 4 replies

 **Chef Excellence**  
What’s up with all the speciesism in the comments???? Super disgusting  
View all 71 replies

 **Chris Davies**  
The main complaint: Supergirl has been the root of increased alien presence on earth. While it’s true that Govt had not done any policy-work on the issue until Supergirl’s increased visibility made it impossible to ignore the fact that there is a small percentage of the population with out-planet origins, resulting in the Alien Amnesty Act thru an Executive Order  
Read more  
View all 24 replies

 **Robert1701**  
_This has been flagged as spam_  
ALIEN SCUM SHOULD HAVE DIED WITH UR PLANET  
View all 7 replies

 **Cool Story Bro Still Murder**  
Total BULLSH*T that aliens get to receive citizenship before ACTUAL HUMAN IMMIGRANTS who have been living here for frickin YEARS, working as productive members of society. I know people who are struggling to get GREEN CARDS but then you tell me these guys get to just jump the line? My brown brothers and sisters were being called aliens long before ET’s came into the  
Read more  
View all 19 replies

Show more

  


* * *

  


iv.

Ultimately, Kara decides to have faith.

( _It’s about who we decide to be_ )

On the corner of Figueroa and Chavez, Kara nervously readjusts the grip she has on her crutches, stalling for a moment, willing bravery to seep into her bones, into her muscles, until she can walk without her good leg trembling. 

After a couple of deep breaths, Kara walks forth slowly, each step echoing loudly inside her ears as her shoes tap on the driveway. The house in front of her is deceptively innocuous, hiding behind its bright blue door what could prove to be a disastrous interaction.

( _It’s about who we decide to be_ )

Kara reaches the door and pauses to smooth down the front of her light green button down, taking comfort from the pleasant color and the feeling of every small ridge and dip of the cool plastic buttons. 

After another deep breath, and gripping onto the edges of her fleeing courage, Kara raps her knuckles against the door three times in quick succession.

She doesn’t have to wait long before the door is thrown open to reveal a grinning Javi'r, all extra eyes missing, concealed under a thick mop of brown hair parted neatly to the side. 

“Kara Danvers,” he says, single pair of eyes widening in surprise, “you’re here.”

“I am,” she says, sheepishly holding up a plastic bag hanging from the crook of her elbow, “even brought pastries. As an apology.”

The bright blue door is opened wider.

///

Once they’re seated on the sturdy wooden chairs of a bright spacious kitchen, pastry bag emptied onto a large plate in the middle of the small table, warm mugs of coffee clutched between hands, Javi’r speaks.

“You missed the barbeque,” he says evenly, “Young-joo was disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara replies, ducking her head a little, eyes intent on the creamy coffee in her hands.

“Oh no,” he frets, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sure you were busy. Probably with the whole-” he waves at the crutches leaning against her chair. 

Kara shrugs a little, grabbing a croissant and dipping a corner of it into her drink, taking a bite quickly before coffee can drip on the nice burnt orange tablecloth. Javi’r follows suit, taking a cheese Danish from the plate and biting into it appreciatively.

“Besides, we kind of didn’t think to leave you a number you could call,” he continues after a moment, sheepish, “I want to say it was the drinks but, honestly, we just forgot.”

Kara smiles sadly and confesses, “I actually wasn’t busy. I just- I was scared.”

“Scared?” he asks, adding a little raspberry jam to his Danish, also careful not to drop any onto the table.

“I’ve been hiding for a long time,” Kara says slowly, measuring her words carefully, “before the bar I’d only told like two people that I- that I’m, you know-”

“Oh.” 

“So I panicked,” she says with an embarrassed shrug, looking at Javi’r from under her eyelashes, “I realized that, I’m not ready to…” 

"Oh,” Javi’r repeats. “I understand,” he says solemnly. 

Kara can see his sincerity in the way he’s clutching his mug tightly, knuckles whitening. She can hear it in the way his voice wobbles slightly with emotion. 

(With understanding)

Kara half-smiles at him, the right corner of her mouth lifting slightly. Javi’r smiles back, eyes sad, and reaches out a hand until it gently hovers over the back of hers.

“We won’t tell anyone,” he reassures, “We would never do that to one of us.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, r _eliefwonderhope_ creating a pressure on her sinuses that makes her eyes feel a little watery and her nose a little stuffed.

There’s a long pause as they finish their pastries and carefully select another. Kara, sniffling slightly, goes for an apricot filled Hamantash. Javi’r goes for a pineapple rugelach, sniffing it curiously before taking a bite. 

If the way his face lights up is any indication, he likes the taste.

///

“Man, you must have been so scared,” Javi’r says sympathetically. He points at the coffee decanter he’s standing next to in askance.

“No thank you, I still have some,” she responds, lifting her mug, “And yeah, I was terrified.”

“I’m so sorry,” he pours coffee into his star-covered mug, “We didn’t mean to put you on the spot or anything.”

“Well,” Kara says, “I didn’t mean to reveal anything so I guess we’re even.”

“Actually, I don’t think we’re even until you tell me where you got these amazing pastries from,” Javi’r says cheerfully, sitting back down and reaching for another rugelach, which he promptly stuffs in his mouth. He moans a little, “Shit, they’re scrumptious.”

Kara chuckles, “they’re from Chairo’s Bakery. It’s a great kosher bakery near downtown.”

“I will have to visit sometime soon then,” he says between mouthfuls of pastry.

“You should. They’d appreciate the business.”

“What other spots do you know?” he asks. “Have you tried the food truck that parks behind the National City Credit Union headquarters?”

“I might have,” Kara goes through her memories. “Are they the ones who serve fish tacos?”

“They are!” Javi’r exclaims, bobbing his head up and down with a wide grin.

The enthusiasm is infectious. Kara finds herself leaning forwards and asking, “Have you tried their chipotle sauce?”

“Oh god. I have. Finger. Licking. Good,” he gushes, eyes twinkling. Literally. His eyes are actually twinkling, the little burst of light making his eyes look silvery and bright, “Have you tried the lemon, Worcester, hot sauce combo?”

“Yes! What do they call it? Ummmm- ummm-”

“Oh yea! Umm. It’s, umm-”

Kara covers her face with her hands, blanking out on the name whilst Javi’r snaps his fingers repeatedly, also trying to remember.

“The English Twist!” they exclaim in unison.

///

Javi’r walks her back to his front door slowly, accommodating of her lopsided gait.

“You have my number now. If you ever need anything,” he says once they reach the blue door.

“You do too. And thank you. For understanding.”

"No thanks necessary. Not for that. Although…” he trails off, scratching his right eyebrow thoughtfully.

“What?” Kara asks with a smile.

"There’s a soccer game coming up,” Javi’r says, “It’s little league, for our kids, since some of them can’t exactly join the YMCA without drawing unwanted attention. And, no pressure,” he waves a hand, “but, you’d be more than welcome. We usually have a barbecue afterwards and there’s going to be human partners and some human kids too, so you don’t have to worry about admitting to anything.” 

“It does sounds like fun,” she admits with a smile, touched by the offer considering she bailed on the last one.

“It is. Let me know if you want to attend and I’ll text you the details,” he says, careful to not pressure her, which Kara appreciates.

“Ok.”

There’s a short pause as Javi’r unlocks his door. Once he’s done he tilts his head consideringly.

“I gather you won’t say where you’re from will you?” he asks.

She shakes her head in the negative and smiles tightly.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, “It’s just- I know a lot of the people around here. If you’re looking for family or anyone…”

“Oh. Thank you, that’s sweet of you but there’s no need.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m afraid there’s only me.”

  


* * *

  


v.

( _It’s about who we decide to be_ )

Eve waves Kara ahead into James’ office and closes the door, which instantly makes her shoulders relax a bit. 

(The looks she’d gotten from the rest of the building as she made her way to James made her skin crawl)

“Kara,” James rises from behind his desk, going around it so he can lean against it, his crossed arms the only thing between them now.

“Hi James,” she says, wriggling her fingers at him in greeting.

“Look about the other day-” he starts just as she blurts, “I just wanted to-”

They laugh then, tension between them lessening at the overlap.

“You go first,” James says, palms now flat against the desk behind him, bright charming smile softening his face.

“I um,” Kara tries to recover the words she was going to say, “I just wanted to apologize for the rough manhandling the other day. I was angry. You had almost gotten a bullet to the head and I-”

(She still feels the anger thrumming somewhere near the base of her spine, tempered only by the fear in her gut.

It’s easy to imagine:

James dead, a lucky bullet hitting him just right, armor rendered useless. Winn bleeding and hurt in some well-intentioned attempt to bluff their way out of trouble)

Kara shakes her head minutely.

“I’ve realized that you wouldn’t have even been in danger if we had been on good enough terms for you to call me as back up,” she admits, voice as non-accusing as she can make it, “And that’s on me. I haven’t- I-”

“Hey hey no,” James says, saving her from struggling to put more words together, “It’s on me too,” he continues. “On us. Winn and I- we kept it from you for so long, and I can see how that might have made you feel. As if, I don’t know,” he shrugs a little helplessly, “as if we didn’t trust you. And Kara,” he stresses the syllables of her name, catching her attention, “that is the farthest thing from the truth.”

Kara smiles up at him, a little wobbly perhaps, but a sincere thankful smile nonetheless. They stare at each other in silence for a bit, both digesting each other’s apology.

(A start, perhaps, in the mending of their friendship. A smoothing over the spidery cracks that kept the whole thing feeling fragile and delicate in the worse way)

“I just don’t get it,” she says, hesitantly, afraid to rock a boat that seems to finally be settling, but needing to understand, “Why are you doing this?”

James shrugs a little, looking away, towards the balcony. “I got tired of playing the sidekick I guess. Of watching you and Clark and hell, even Lucy and Alex go out and save the day while I’m stuck doing nothing.”

“You weren’t doing nothing,” Kara rebuts as gently as she can, “What you do here?” she motions at the desk James is still perched on. “It isn’t nothing James. There’s so much good you can do if you-”

“Focused on reporting after the fact?” James asks, warmth bleeding away from his tone, “On telling stories on tragedies I could have prevented?”

Kara’s figurative hackles rise as irritation straightens her spine, the thrumming anger at its base pulsing faster.

“On making it so it doesn’t happen again!” she cries, confused as to why he’s not getting it. “On molding popular opinion. On fighting prejudice and corruption and hate! On creating-” she waves her right hand around, looking for the words, “on creating impactful stories and showing powerful images and-”

“Do you think I haven’t tried!” James interrupts, pushing away from his desk to loom over her, “It’s useless! I report on a public official’s rampart bribery and racism and you know what happens? He gets elected a second term,” he raps the knuckles of his right hand against the desk, the sound echoing around the office. “And then a third. And so on and on and on because at the end of the day,” James makes an angry dismissive motion, “all I had were a couple of photographs and words when he had lawyers and wealth and whiteness.”

A stone-like weight settles onto Kara’s chest, dampening her ire. She curves her shoulders inwards, trying to smother whatever anger remains.

(Because even powerless, she’s scared of her anger. Of the way it narrows her focus dangerously, of the way it makes her feel as if she’s bursting with kinetic energy.

Of the way it makes her feel unpredictable and irrational and hostile and _careless_ )

Kara takes a deep breath, extinguishing the last of her momentary rage until it returns to being nothing more than a simmering warmth at the edges of her sternum. 

“James, come on, journalism-” 

“No,” he interrupts, “God Kara, stop being so _naïve_ ,” James scrubs at his face, exasperation coating his words.

“James-”

“Why write an article on,” James clenches his hands and purses his lips, “on another cop shooting a black kid if it’s just going to get ignored? Why waste my time like that when I could be out there,” he points to the side, the motion fast and sharp, “out there _preventing_ the shooting from happening in the first place.”

He takes a couple of gulping breaths, chest heaving with the motion. Kara remains silent, trying to remain cool. Trying to _listen_ to something that’s obviously been bothering James for a while.

(And what kind of friend is she? That she’s been so self-involved that-)

“You know the real reason I left the Daily Planet?” James asks, sounding more calm. At her wordless negation he continues, “It wasn’t a want for change. It was because I was godamned angry at the fact that journalism only changes the things that outrage rich white people.

Lois spent months reporting on wars and conflicts and human rights violations abroad and no one cared. Clark chased leads on Metropolis clinics denying care to their low-income patients and no one cared,” his tone becomes more incensed, tension returning to the tendons of his neck. “Even Perry! He made a big fuss back in the day about the AIDS epidemic and, guess what? No one cared! Not until fucking Rock Hudson died of it.”

“James-”

“You know why I was in that parking garage that day?” James interrupts, still seething.

Kara clutches her crutches tightly, enough for her hands to hurt. She tries to keep her voice even as she replies, “You tried to stop the drug deal going on. Cocaine, right?”

“Yeah. You know what the funny part is though?” James laughs sharply, humorlessly, completely un-James-like. “CatCo wrote an article on local gangs moving product in the area a month ago. You know who cared? C’mon Kara,” he needles, “take a guess.”

“James-”

“No one. Because the neighborhood is black and poor and not worth the cops’ time.”

“James-”

“You can show yourself out,” James says, returning to the other side of his desk.

“Damnit James!” Kara exclaims, causing James to jump in surprise. “Let me speak!”

He hesitates for a second, eyes taking in her painfully tense posture, and clenched jaw. Then his eyes slide to a point behind her and he sighs. 

“Sorry, I can’t speak now Kara,” he says, nodding behind her. Confused she turns and instantly sees Eve at her desk, holding up a notepad with the words ‘BOARD MEET 5 MIN’ in black ink.

“Fine,” she says, “It’s not as if you’ll listen anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title:  
> Youtube comments: Where Common Decency Goes to Die
> 
> Disclaimer: I have seen zero (0) episodes of Game of Thrones and have based the opinions discussed in this chapter solely on what I've seen on my dash at tumblr dot com
> 
> Also, I'm packing these next few weeks so expect slower updates  
> Also, I will reply to all your comments by Saturday night dammnit! Even if it kills me. You're all lovely people. Thank you for all your thoughtful comments and encouraging words.  
> You make this fic a reality


	7. And so, with Vagueness, some Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At an event, Kara sees familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have an explanation!  
> It involves melted hardrives and a fool who doesn't learn.  
> But first, one last update before the new year.

“So how’s it looking Doc?”

“No change,” Alex says, writing something up on Kara’s chart. “Still no powers at all?”

"Nope,” Kara responds, idly wondering just how big her medical file must be by now.

Alex keeps scribbling on, mouth downturned in a worried grimace.

“I think this is the longest solar flare you’ve had,” she says.

“It is,” Kara confirms.

“How are you?”

“Dandy.”

“Kara…” Alex trails off with a sigh, the exhalation of air somehow managing to come off as disapproving. Or annoyed. It’s a little hard to tell now that Kara doesn’t have her other senses to pick up on extra cues. 

It’s only been in these last couple of days that Kara’s noticed how dependent she’s become on them in normal everyday stuff… like communication. 

And dealing with exhaustion.

She still doesn’t need as much sleep as a human might, but the physical fatigue has been hitting her hard now that the sun isn’t constantly giving her that extra energy kick she’s become used to.

(Rao, she’s so  _tired_ )

“Kara.”

Kara jumps at Alex calling her name, her sluggish train of thought derailing so completely she finds herself confused for a moment, unable to recognize where she is.

“You okay?” Alex asks, cutting through Kara’s disorientation. “You zoned out on me for a bit there. Any nausea? Dizziness?”

Kara huffs, batting away Alex’s hands, which were already reaching for Kara’s forehead.

“I’m  _fine_  Alex,” she says, adding a little extra whine for emphasis.

“Look,” Alex says, putting her hands on Kara’s shoulders. “I know it must be really frustrating right now but-”

“It’ll pass soon,” Kara finishes. “I know. I’m just a little restless right now.”

(And prone to bouts of dizziness and disorientation and the occasional hallucination. But those are more symptoms of chronic insomnia than anything else.

It’ll pass soon. It always does)

“About that,” Alex pauses, hesitating for long enough to pique Kara’s curiosity.

“What?”

“Maybe- maybe you should talk to James, maybe he can help you reach out to someone in the Tribune or-”

“Stop,” Kara interrupts, finally catching on to what Alex is thinking.

She really really does not want to discuss anything related to her former job or James or how she can’t even be Supergirl right now and, instead, all she does is  _think_  about change and death and regret. 

To the point of sleeplessness.

(She just wants it all to  _stop_ )

“Kara-”

“Please. Can we talk about something else?” she begs. “ _Please_.”

Alex sighs, squeezing at Kara’s shoulders tight enough for it to hurt a bit, before letting go and busying herself again with Kara’s chart.

“Any plans for today?” she asks, tone artificially light and eyes still worried.

(Kara appreciates the effort anyways)

“Yeah,” Kara replies, “Lena invited me to that biotech conference that is in town.”

“The NCBTBEC?” Alex asks, now sounding mostly curious.

“Yeah!” Kara exclaims, glad for the distraction. “And wow, that’s a cumbersome acronym. Are you also going?”

“I am,” Alex confirms. “It’s a good opportunity to network and one of the scientists we’re doing passive surveillance on is going to be there so I might do some light recon.”

“Passive surveillance? Why?” Kara’s mind churns, already thinking on the logistical nightmare involved in any kind of evacuation of Hidalgo Hall, a decommissioned train station that now hosts the bioconference. 

It doesn’t help that the event is going to be huge, the biggest scientific meeting in the west coast and no wonder, considering all the amazing speakers that are going to be-

 _Lena_.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Kara asks, sounding alarmed even to her own ears. “Because if you are... I’m going to have to figure out a way to keep Lena out of trouble because, geez Alex, that woman attracts almost as much danger as us and we  _fight crime for a living_.”

“Well, technically you don’t really get paid outside of a minor consultant stipend so it’s not really, y’know, for a living-”

“ _Alex_.”

“Right. Sorry. Not the time,” Alex winces. “And no, we’re not expecting trouble. It’s just that, after Dr. Jones…”

At the name, Kara’s breath leaves her in a whoosh, as if she had been sucker-punched in the gut, the pain surprising in its swiftness and intensity.

“Parasite?” she asks, lips numb, palms tingling as she’s buffeted by the sudden memory of holding onto the man-turned-monster and staring into his bright feverish eyes, waiting for the plutonium to- 

(Apologizing for-)

Kara clenches her hands, burying blunt nails to the creases of her palms, using the sting to ground herself in the now.   
In this room in the DEO, with her concerned sister standing in front of her (eyes bright but human bright but human human human  _human_ ).

“Yes,” Alex murmurs, reaching for Kara’s right fist, uncurling her fingers slowly, never looking away from Kara’s face. “After Parasite- Dr. Jones, we decided to take a closer look at some of the work being done by American scientists. 

Most of it seemed fine but a couple of labs raised some red flags during our initial intel gathering so we’re keeping an eye on everyone involved.”

“Huh,” Kara says, weakly. She lowers her gaze to the hand still cradled between Alex’s before, automatically, jerkily, unclenching her other fist as well.

“Anything you need help with?” she asks, rubbing her numb leg to hide how badly her left hand is shaking. “Now that I think about it, I think I’ve seen Susan go through reports on some of the data you’ve collected.”

“Susan?” Alex parrots, brows furrowing in confusion. “Vasquez?”

“Yeah.”

“First name basis now huh?” Alex teases, voice gentle.

Kara shrugs, suddenly feeling a little shy.

(She’s never heard Alex call Susan anything other than Vasquez, and Kara knows they’ve been friends for a while)

Alex laughs at the gesture, letting go of Kara’s hand so she can step closer and duck her head a little so they’re eye to eye again.

“I like her,” Kara mumbles, leaning forwards so she can hide her embarrassed face against Alex’s shoulder.

“I bet,” her sister says, raising an arm to rub comforting circles on Kara’s back. “Vasquez is great,” she continues, “and I know you trust her. I’m just surprised. I thought she was taking over the graveyard shift.”

Uh-oh. Abort abort.

“She is! And hoo-boy does she drink coffee. I’ve already told her that if she keeps it up I’m switching everything in the break room to decaf,” Kara rambles, hoping to get lectured on the sanctity of caffeine instead of-

“But you’re usually here for my shift too,” Alex pulls back, knocking her knuckles gently against Kara’s temple. 

“Please tell me you aren’t skulking around here all day,” the concerned eyes make a reappearance. “Are you getting enough rest?”

“I am,” Kara replies, knowing she sounds a little petulant but not being able to stop herself. “Benched. Remember?” she says sarcastically. 

Deciding to go full brat, she adds an eyeroll for good measure.

“Kara-”

In a perfect sense of timing, Kara’s phone rings.

“Sorry,” she says to Alex, not meaning it in the least, “that must be Lena. I gotta go. See you at the conference! Love you!” she rushes to say, standing up and leaving the room as fast as her crutches can take her.

“Love you too,” Alex automatically responds, sounding a bit baffled.

A pause.

“Wait… decaf? What the- Kara! Kara?!”

 

* * *

 

“Lena!” Kara shouts, trying to get her friend’s attention amongst the hubbub that naturally occurs in a large building full of people.

“Lena!”

Lena finally hears her, if the faint exclamation of “Kara!” is anything to go by.

Kara scrambles to get past the crowded entrance, and soon bumps into Lena as the other woman also tries to dance her way between people.

“This looks awesome!” Kara beams down at her friend, grabbing at her elbows to stabilize her as some rude guy knocks into Lena without apologizing. “I saw the program and wow you’re listed with a bunch of real top-notch scientists here. Like, I knew you were brilliant and amazing but wow! There have to be, at the very least, like three Nobel winners here and-”

A laugh distracts Kara from her ramble. Lena, visibly amused, raises an eyebrow up at Kara.

“Hello Kara.”

“Oh- right. Hi!” Kara lets go of Lena and waves, realizes that it’s unnecessary now that she’s said hi and sheepishly clamps her hands onto the handles of her crutches to stop herself from fidgeting. 

Lena’s eyes follow the motion and her amused smile flips into a frown.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I- Oh! Yeah, I’m good. Just a sprained ankle,” she reassures, tapping her left foot with one of her crutches. “But you know how Alex gets. She almost forced me into bed rest for the whole week.”

Lena lets out a short laugh, now looking amused again.

“So you escaped your sister?” she teases.

“Kind of. We compromised on the crutches but,” Kara glances around mock-furtively, as if checking for listening ears. “She’s somewhere around here skulking about. Probably ready to drag me back to my comfy pillow prison.”

“A real threat,” Lena says drily.

“It is!” Kara insists. “She won’t let me choose the channel and we’d end up watching a marathon of Pawn Stars. But worse, because Alex likes to guess how much things are worth and keeps pressing pause to fact-check the history. I can’t take six hours of that.”

Lena laughs again, low and delighted and Kara smiles back warmly, glad that at least this part of her life is going right.

“Thanks for coming,” Lena says, once she’s recovered her breath.

“You kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for anything!”

 

* * *

 

Lena’s talk goes great. She starts out a little awkward but turns funny and engaging as she gets into the groove of it.

When she finishes, Kara claps furiously and lets out a couple of sharp whistles, loud and piercing like Alex taught her, uncaring of the disapproving glances thrown her way at the commotion.

 

* * *

 

After Lena, a tall, severe-looking woman takes the podium.

“Hello and welcome. My name is Dr. Saenz and I am going to talk about some of my lab’s latest work on some new and interesting viruses we have found in cash crops and other plants. It’s actually serendipitous that Miss Luthor presented before us, I hear her company is doing similar work. Anyways-”

As the scientist continues to talk, Kara finds herself terribly bored. The subject relating less to virus applications in agriculture outside of gene editing, as Kara had hoped, and leaning more towards the classification of new viruses depending on the relevant protein levels presented by the affected plant.

When she checks her watch and sees that only fifteen minutes have passed Kara stands, unwilling to put herself through more of the tedious talk.

Since Alex is working and Lena disappeared with the organizers to some other part of the conference hall, Kara finds herself wandering around aimlessly, half-listening to the chatter of the other conference-goers and glancing at the student posters for a bit before ducking into another conference room, where the CEO and lead researcher of Odyssey Labs – a Dr. Jim Granger – is giving his own talk.

The room is surprisingly full, all seats taken and people still crowding the sides. The silence is absolute as everyone listens attentively to the presenter.

Curious about what could possibly draw in such a large (and riveted) crowd, Kara leans against the wall and pays close attention to what Dr. Granger, a kind-looking man wearing lopsided wire-rimmed glasses, is saying.

From what she can gather, he’s talking about his company’s latest foray into mobility aids, mainly the development of a spinal device that bypasses nerve damage and partial paralysis of the legs and, somehow, restores near normal function to the affected limb.

Hearing him, Kara gets instantly stuck on two things:

1) the spinal device is not an implant, does not require invasive surgery and is completely and totally  _external_ , which is completely unprecedented.

2) Kara has no idea on  _how_  the man could have possibly accomplished this.

He’s vague on how it actually functions, other than that it “stimulates regular physiological responses through a network of closely aligned electrical impulses sent through motor neurons”.

There’s other details of course, limitations on the range of motion the device allows for, a lag in response time, the device itself being rather delicate even as it is bulky and unwieldy. He presents graphs and statistics that back up all the observations he makes on the cons but the science itself behind how exactly they achieved it in the first place remains murky.

Kara finds herself immediately suspicious. 

From what she remembers, humans are not close to this kind of technology. 

Maybe if the device were a three part implant directly connected to a) the spine b) the appropriate brain regions that control movement and c) individual deep muscles, Kara would believe it possible but... a single external component that is responsible for signal translation, transmission, and muscle stimulation? Should be impossible in this century.

But, as she looks around the room, Kara notices that no one seems to share her doubts. Everyone else in the room is totally entranced, some of the scientists nodding along to the Dr. Granger’s points as if they made total sense.

“Finally, I know we’ve got a few students amongst us, who are only just embarking on their journey of discovery and innovation,” the man says, voice clear and pleasantly baritone. "To you, I must remind that scientific progress is not a single breakthrough, but a process. It is a foregone conclusion that this,” he gestures at the projection of his data, “my life’s work, will one day go through hundreds of other adaptations and variations and spectacular improvements. 

I know I will be astonished by the ingenuity and creativity of those who walk down this path. But, whatever you do, I’d like to remind you that you  _do not walk alone_. For you follow in the steps of those that preceded you, each past and present development paving the way for your next leap until you, in turn, through diligence and ingenuity, pave the way for those who will follow. 

Together, we create a road to the future, where all those ideals we dream of today will be reality!”

The room explodes in applause. In fact, there is a standing ovation.

Still leaning against the wall, arms firmly crossed, Kara can’t help but frown, feeling oddly unsettled.

* * *

 

It takes some struggling and some subtle elbowing but Kara manages to reach the end of the room and catch Dr. Granger’s attention.

“Hi, Dr. Granger? Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?” She asks, breathless.

“Not at all!” he exclaims, all genial cheer and huge grin. “What did you want to know?”

“I,” Kara shuffles a bit, painfully aware that she doesn’t have any actual questions besides  _how how how_. 

“I... we all know Cadmus has managed to do cybernetic human enhancements,” she says, trying to get her thoughts in some semblance of order that won’t immediately betray her suspicions. 

“But all of that is  _internal_. No external component,” she continues. “General consensus agrees that it’s some kind of internal chip acting as regulator and signal relayer, so this, your technology, is totally unprecedented!”

“We are on the breaking edge of science, yes,” Dr. Granger agrees, nodding encouragingly at Kara.

“Well, I just keep wondering… How did you manage to get the kind of mobility you described without the specificity of a cerebral chip?” She asks in a rush.

“Well,” Dr. Granger hums thoughtfully. “we’re not trying to work with a hand but with lower appendages. For which we don’t really need many points of movement, so we don’t require that much- ah.   
Specificity. To borrow your expression.”

“ _But how_?” Kara blurts out. “I mean, the knee is just one joint yes, and it is functional with just hinge-like movement but... you’re talking about an almost normal gait. So you have to also worry about ankle movement and the ability to turn.   
You just- how do you do that without an internal component? Just- how did you achieve this kind of tech?”

Dr. Granger blinks at Kara for a second, obviously thrown by the rambling question. Then he throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Oh God. This is giving me flashbacks to my dissertation defense,” he jokes good-naturedly, causing a flutter of laughter to spread across the people still gathered around them, listening in. “Sorry ma’am but I can’t tell you much. We are very protective of our proprietary technology.”

“But shouldn’t the public, and by extension, possible consumers know more about what this tech entails?” Kara asks, done with the evasion. “I mean, Cadmus tech, for example, has truly scary implications when it comes to possible uses. Mostly due to the fact that no one really knows how they’ve achieved what they have. Metallo went through extensive tests when he was apprehended and the doctors and scientists assigned were still baffled by how he was modified.”

“Oh my,” Dr. Granger says, now looking a little alarmed at Kara’s line of questioning. “I… I would like to think that a reticence to reveal trade secrets is not comparable to the secrecy of a xenophobic terrorist organization.”

Kara shrugs, a little chastised by the indignant looks being sent her way by the group of people still milling about.

“Perhaps not, but… You can see how your reticence might hurt you right?” she asks.

With a sigh, Dr. Granger nods.

“Then what guidelines are you following? How are you getting volunteers? What are the body modifications that actually occur? I’m just wary of the lack of oversight by regulatory bodies outside of academia,” Kara admits.

“Again, I can’t tell you much,” he says. 

(At least he looks genuinely apologetic) 

“We are very protective of our proprietary technology. Especially because we are well aware that there are a number of relevant and prudent ethical considerations we must keep in mind. I can assure you though, that the technology won’t arrive into the wider public sphere until all possible safety and efficiency measures are pushed to their most stringent,” he says.

“There must be something more you can say!” Kara insists. “How are you doing brain mapping? Or are you just stimulating muscle? There is such a thing as too much obfuscation. Transparency-”

“Remember,” Dr. Granger interrupts, “our initial attempts back in the 80s were partially funded by DARPA, mostly because of the implications the tech had when it came to the rehabilitation of veterans. 

The Defense Department was pushing us hard to present actual viable results and advancements. When we started to push back because we believed that the rushed timeline might compromise the reproducibility and overall accuracy of the data, our funding was cut. After that, I’ll admit,” he shrugs unrepentantly, “we are not particularly fond of government interference or oversight. 

People hold government regulation as the golden standard and though, yes, agencies like the FDA have done an amazing job in protecting consumer health, ultimately we are wary of our research and technology being misappropriated or meddled by some impatient general that decided that if it does not aid in the war effort it is useless.”

“And I can respect that,” Kara admits, remembering General Lane and Red Tornado. “But that still doesn’t really answer any of my-”

“Is it nerve damage?” Dr. Granger abruptly asks.

“Excuse me?” Kara asks, bewildered by the random tangent.

“Your leg,” he clarifies, nodding at Kara's bum leg. “It’s curiously unresponsive. Nerve damage?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she replies frostily, spine straightening under the man’s sharp gaze.

“Ah pardon me,” he says, looking genuinely contrite. “That was insensitive of me. I’m just- I just,” he fumbles for a bit, so obviously flustered that Kara’s cool anger dissipates a bit. “I’m sorry. I was just asking because if its nerve damage, you might be a great candidate for our trials.”

“Trials?” Kara repeats dubiously.

“Totally safe!” Dr. Granger is quick to reassure. “And you’d be well compensated. Not that you need to be compensated,” he hurriedly adds. “We- um- we’re currently going through trials to measure efficiency for differing conditions.”

“I thought you weren’t pursuing FDA approval?”

“We’re not,” he confirms. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be on top of this stuff, independent of big government regulators. 

And look, you’ll have to sign some NDAs and won’t be able to reveal trade secrets in any article you may or may not want to write. But you can see the tech,” Dr. Granger assures earnestly, missing the way Kara startles at having been pegged as the reporter she no longer is. 

“You can get a closer look on the device. See that it’s safe and that all our volunteers are fully consenting adults and hopefully you’ll get to find some peace of mind on it.”

“I…”

“Consider it,” he asks, pulling a card from the breast pocket of his suit. “Just leave a message if you’re interested and we can talk about next steps.”

“All right,” Kara says, accepting the card, knowing she’ll likely never take him up on his offer. Not when any sort of alien-revealing tests might be involved. “Thank you.”

“No no! Thank you!” Dr. Granger extends his hand for a shake with a smile. Kara grasps it firmly. “I rarely get asked these sort of questions anymore when I present. 

Probably because, lately, I’ve been presenting more in boardrooms to possible investors than in biology conferences,” he lets go of Kara’s hand and drops his voice to a conspirational whisper. “I’ve found that the shinier shoes don’t translate to brighter suits if you catch my drift,” he says, winking at her before turning on his heel and walking away.

Kara watches him leave with a wry grin, a little charmed despite herself. 

Brushing it off quickly, she approaches the group of people clustered near the front seats, who she’s pretty sure she saw recording Dr. Granger’s speech.

She hopes they’re willing to share.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Curious George,” someone calls out.

Kara turns and blushes at the sight of one Lena Luthor leaning against the conference room’s wall, eyebrows raised in that way she does when she’s seen Kara do something particularly amusing or embarrassing.

“You heard all that huh?” Kara groans, joining her friend a little reluctantly.

“I did,” Lena confirms.

“When did you get here?”

“Too late for the speech,” Lena admits, “but in time for the questions.”

“What did you think about what he said?” Kara asks, nodding at the empty podium.

“I’ve heard whispers,” Lena shrugs. “Nothing bad. Just that the tech is incredibly advanced. I know they’ve published on  _Nature_  about some of the nerve signaling that they do. 

But most of their more recent work hasn’t been really tested by other parties. Apparently most labs still don’t have the capability to reproduce the methods.”

“And that isn’t weird at all?” Kara asks, frustrated. “They’re biologists and bioengineers. It’s not as if their work is totally based on using specialized tech like a particle accelerator.”

“Not necessarily. It takes time to catch up to new innovations sometimes. Personally, I think it’s mostly a breakthrough in coding what’s working as foundation for the success, which makes it hard to replicate,” Lena shrugs. “But that’s just my personal theory. Rumor has it that it’s all legitimate though. Why are you so wary? It’s not as if the tech is anywhere near market ready.”

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, now doubting herself a little. 

“It’s just- if Dr. Granger and the company are so interested in the people, why make it all proprietary?” she asks. “Wouldn’t it be more in line with their vision to share their results and methodologies with the rest of the world? Speed up progress in their area?”

“Well,” Lena pushes off the wall and begins to lead the way out, “like you said, they’re not physicists. Biologists are always slower in adapting to new stuff like ArXiv. It’s a moot point anyways. Odyssey Labs is still a corporation first and foremost. They’re keeping everything close to the chest because they’re chasing profits.”

“I agree. One can never discount an executive board’s greed,” a familiar voice adds from their left.

Kara turns and beams at her sister, who is following them out to the main room.

“Alex! Hey!”

“Alex,” Lena greets.

“Lena,” Alex returns in the same inscrutable tone.

“So you saw the lecture?” Kara asks, eager to hear her sister’s opinion.

“I was mostly busy catching up with Dr. Hamilton, but I caught the end of it,” she says, falling in step with them.

“And you’re not suspicious at all?” Kara looks around inconspicuously before whispering, “Dr. Granger isn’t on your list?”

“List?” Lena asks, eyebrow raised.

Kara winces then smiles sheepishly at Alex’s glare.

“No,” Alex grits out, rolling her eyes, “he isn’t on the list. By all accounts the guy is decent and exactly who he says he is.”

“What about me? Am I on the super-secret FBI list?” Lena asks.

“And is that normal?” Kara asks, trying to redirect the conversation back to Dr. Granger.

“What?” Alex distractedly asks, more focused on narrowing her eyes in warning at a smirking Lena.

“Someone being exactly who they seem to be,” Kara says, nudging at her sister’s shoulder so that she stops with the stink eye. 

Alex concedes with a huff, turning her attention completely towards Kara.

“It’s not unusual,” she replies. “Most people aren’t secret villains-”

Lena, still walking on Kara’s right, snorts.

“Contrary to recent events,” Alex amends, sending a half-apologetic grimace at Lena, who waves her off with a mirthless laugh. 

“Sometimes a good person trying to do good really is just a good person trying to do good. Which,” Alex nudges Kara, making her bump into Lena, “I thought was your whole outlook on life.”

“Point,” Lena agrees, nudging Kara back towards Alex, who repeats the motion so that Kara is pinballing between them.

“Stooop,” Kara grumbles around a smile, already feeling her mood brighten.

“You’re the one who is always telling me to give people the benefit of the doubt,” Alex argues mock-seriously, already locking her shoulder so that she can nudge Kara back to Lena.

“Same!” Lena exclaims. “Is the rampart nihilism of your millennial peers finally getting to you Kara?” she asks, all faux-solemnity as she leans against Kara’s side until Kara is being pushed back into Alex’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’re also a millennial,” Alex observes, leaning into Kara’s left.

“But haven’t you seen CatCo’s most recent online article on me? Apparently, I’m more of a Gen X woman. Although… I guess I can forgive them the mistake,” Lena says, seemingly gracious. “I do have one of those old souls.”

Kara, now firmly sandwiched between the other two women, groans.

Alex just laughs.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, after Lena leaves early due to some unexpected change in a scheduled overseas meeting for LCorp, Kara, waiting patiently by the curve for Alex to get the car, almost does a double take when she sees a familiar face leaving Hidalgo Hall.

“Professor Luzano?”

The man, close enough to be in hearing range, turns to her in surprise and then beams.

“Well hello dear! It’s been a while!” he exclaims, already reaching for Kara’s hands.

“It has,” she agrees, still a bit surprised. “How have you been?”

“Good good,” he beams, still clutching Kara’s hands. “On track for tenure. Still not one hundred percent certain what that entails but I’m optimistic.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kara says, as warm and sincere as she can. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he smiles. “You? How’s the cape treating you?”

Kara’s grin falters a bit. “Good,” she says after an awkward pause. “I’ve been good. The- the cape has been good.”

“Are you certain? That was,” he squeezes her hands, “a long pause.”

“Yes. I’m sure. But thanks for the concern”

Kara’s phone rings. Alphonse’s smile wavers for a bit.

“Ah, you should probably take that.”

“Yeah I should,” Kara agrees. It’s probably Alex, waiting impatiently by the curb. “But hey Professor. Here,” she reaches into her jacket pockets for the crumpled-

“Aha! My card,” she extends the rumpled piece of cardstock she had gotten made back when she was still in CatCo. “Call. Please. I would love to catch up,” she says.

“I’d like that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, seriously. I lost the whole story in Sept: outline, written dialogue, unedited chapters.  
> It’s been a struggle, finding the motivation to rewrite. I’m not close to done and I’ve forgotten a lot of the stuff I already had, but I’m doing it anyways because you all are awesome and fantastic and incredibly encouraging.  
> I’ll try to answer comments the rest of the weekend.  
> 


	8. And so, with known Hurt, a Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara gets her powers back and runs into some friendly faces.

‘Hello. This is Kara Danvers. I am currently unavailable but if you leave your name and contact information, I can get back to you as soon as I can.’

‘Hi Ms. Danvers. This is Monique Thompson from _The Gazette._ Before anything else, we wanted to thank you for applying to our newspaper. Unfortunately, our stringer position has already been filled…’ 

///

Kara’s powers return on a dry twilight. She wakes up feeling denser, with an awareness of where her body occupies space that she, in long days of powerlessness, has forgotten how to process. 

National City rises along with their sun and Kara, resigned and grateful and a little helpless, loses herself to the stimuli assaulting her senses.

(And what an assault, violent in its intensity, ruthless in its surprise)

The world, shifting and bright and loud, spins on.

///

‘Hello. This is Kara Danvers. I am currently unavailable but if you leave your name and contact information, I can get back to you as soon as I can.’

‘Hello Ms. Danvers, this is Rafael Corona from Buzzfeed News Investigations. I just wanted to reach out again about the events that occurred in March 4th. Like I said last time we spoke, we are doing a piece on ET regulation and would really appreciate a comment. My number is…’

///

“Touch your toes.”

Kara obligingly bends forwards until the tips of her fingers graze past the top of her boots onto the desert dirt. She makes a face and accidentally digs her fingers into the ground as another electrode is stuck to her temple, the stickiness feeling weird against her skin.

“Ok, now let me just get this program running and then you can start,” Alex says, distractedly stepping back from Kara so she can fiddle with the hand-held tablet that’s connected to her nearby mobile work station. “How does the leg feel? Range of motion?” 

Kara dusts her palms then stretches a little longer, trying to reacquaint herself to the way her muscles pull on each other as she carefully ( _carefully_ ) flexes and relaxes her left leg. There is a persistent tugging and tingling throughout it that does not bode well. 

“It moves like it should. But there’s this… tug? A tug that hasn’t really gone away,” she answers Alex, frown settling on her face as she slowly rotates her ankle. 

Alex reaches out and squeezes Kara’s wrist.

///

Kara runs. 

Feet pounding on the earth, compacting dirt and sand and shrubbery and leaving dust clouds in her wake as she runs and runs and runs.

As the miles grow and grow her leg becomes looser, less stiff.

She’s on her seventh lap around the city, daring to hope all is well, when her leg seizes up, sending her tumbling face-first into desert ground.

By the time Alex reaches her, the sand underneath has become damp with frustrated tears.

///

“It’s not the end of the world.”

At Kara’s glare, Alex winces.

“Sorry, poor choice of words,” Alex admits, “I’m going to raise your leg then push until your knee is bent. Fair warning. Your muscle will stretch, and it will feel uncomfortable, but it helps.”.

Kara grumbles a bit as Alex takes her unbooted foot and pushes it towards Kara. It is undeniably uncomfortable, but thankfully painless. After a fifteen second interval, measured by the ticks of Winn’s cheap quartz watch two hallways away, Alex carefully lowers Kara’s leg.

“I don’t think it’s muscle weakness,” Alex idly murmurs, keeping her hand on Kara’s ankle, a solid comfortable weight that is so _Alex_ it makes Kara want to cry a bit, except she still feels all hollowed out from the cry back in the desert so instead all she does is clench her eyes shut and turn away.

“Hey,” Alex squeezes Kara’s ankle lightly, “what are you thinking?”

“That-” Kara swallows heavily, opening her eyes but unwilling to look at Alex, knowing that her gaze will be kind and concerned and Kara just feels a little too fragile to see that tempestuous protectiveness, too weak to not just give in and let Alex shoulder Kara’s doubts and worries. 

(That Supergirl is supposed to be fit and fight-ready and strong and able and if this compromises that- if Kara can’t be Supergirl because of this-)

Kara does not look, unwilling to let Alex be sucked into Kara’s problems more than she already is. Not now. Not after having been confronted so recently with how much Alex is willing to throw away for her sake. 

“Hey. C’mon,” Alex whispers, scooting close enough to sling an arm around Kara’s torso in a sideways hug. “I need to do some more testing,” she admits, “I don’t know if the poison left nerve damage or if it’s just muscle atrophy that can be helped with physical therapy but. But if you don’t push yourself too hard…”

“I should be fine?” Kara asks wryly, careful to keep her voice from trembling.

“I mean, yeah,” Alex insist earnestly, squeezing Kara’s midriff pointedly until Kara sits up properly and hugs back as softly as she can, wary of the possibility of another involuntary clenching of a muscle. Of the damage it can do.

The thought makes her pull back quickly, and although Alex looks unruffled, Kara picks up on the slight quickening of her heartbeat, on the tiny hitch to her breathing. Kara notes that they can be signs of possible disquiet and then dismisses the thought ruthlessly because she really _really_ tries not to analyze the involuntary reactions of people that she loves. 

“Your vitals are near baseline,” Alex says after a second of silence. “Reflexes and tested abilities seem pretty much up to normal. It’s just the leg really. And we can probably treat that.”

“And if it’s something you can’t treat?” Kara asks hesitantly, fidgeting with her hands for a bit before curling her fingers together so that she does not reach out to cover the hands that have settled on her knees. 

“We work around it,” Alex responds firmly, resolute and without hesitation, “we find exactly how it might change the way you operate and then we find a way to compensate for any differences.”

Alex reaches out, covering Kara’s clenched fingers with her own. 

And Kara? 

Kara lets herself be comforted. In the safety of Alex’s sure hold she lets herself believe (or maybe she forces herself to believe, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference) that being Supergirl is not another thing that has been taken from her. 

(That she has lost)

///

**iheartdaisyridley:**

its girl scout season here in national city and every troop ive seen is wearing a cape like not even kidding

**youngbuzzedandlonely:**

no city anywhere loves anyone as much as national city loves supergirl

**here-be-guays:**

I don’t know… metropolis adores superman

**whouginnacall:**

Do they tho??? Dickhead Luthor brainwashed too many people for that to be true anymore  
I even got sources:  
Superman Popularity Plummets as Lex Luthor Releases New Lexapro  
The Daily Planet Axes “Superman Sightings” Column  
  
**criticalrss:**

Oh my god! I’m actually doing a lot of work on Superman and ET history for my PhD and let me say that, whilst the previous poster has a point… its actually more complex than it might initially seem:

For example… there was actually a lot of positive media after Superman’s first appearance (x) (x) (x)  
A lot of it was thanks to the novelty and uniqueness. There had never been any public display of this kind of ability before. At least… not fighting for good. There has actually been a steady uptick in “supernatural” or “weird” criminal activity since the fifties (x) (x).  
It wasn’t until recently that academics confirmed that some of it was definitely the work of extraterrestrials (ETs) (x). There’s actually a bunch of anthropological and sociological and historical studies being done to kind of map when they started coming to Earth and in what numbers (x). There’s also a big push for the declassification of government data but there’s been a lot of resistance (x). Anyways, academic consensus is that it wasn’t really until we started space exploration in earnest that we started to see any significant numbers (x) (x) (x) (x).

Then. Superman.  
He comes out dramatically and _publicly_ and should have changed _everything_ and yet- and yet.  
Most of his initial heroics were actually completely human-related (x) (x). He stopped regular violent crime like alley muggings and armed robberies. The media went crazy for him (x). Cops went crazy in a different way; their set systems and standards did not account for a superpowerful being inserting himself into their arrest process. Prosecution of criminals actually got a little dicey for a while there too before a federal judge had a standard operating procedure set (x).  
So… he was in good esteem with the public, had a strong relationship with the Daily Planet, but clashed a lot with law enforcement and the judicial side of government (x). Overall though, he was well liked. 

It helped that Supes doesn’t talk much about the fact that he’s alien so people kind of tend to forget that. I’m not kidding. There were studies and surveys done that confirmed that a good number of people 100% kept forgetting he was not human (x) (x) (x). It was this and the fact that he dealt with stuff of human nature what let him keep a happy status quo for so long. Like, even his more sci-fi kind of threats like Reactron and Amok were human, even if they did get “enhanced” (x) (x). And they didn’t really crop up until way later in his career. 

In fact, excluding his initial big rescue, it can be said that he started out as a street-level vigilante (with powers) that later added rescue efforts to his duties. Ultimately, he kind of got swallowed up in that weird friendly rivalry-turned-actual-enmity thing with Lex Luthor. Most of the important headlines in the last six years or so were directly related to Luthor (x) (x) (x), who kind of kept getting away with it all because he publicly kept most of his harm away from civilians and was a charming genius at first, especially during the “friendly rivalry” part of their history. Add this to the appearance of destructive enemies like Reactron and this is when Superman public approval began to plummet as he began to be questioned on multiple fronts about his identity, his accountability, his origins, his abilities, and his motivations (x) (x) (x) (x). It didn’t help that, as I mentioned, he kind of never moved past street-level vigilante as his attentions began to be monopolized by the semi-private attrition war against Luthor 

_Keep Reading_

**falselashes:**

Summary: As visible as Superman was, he didn’t get into alien conflict until later on. And then, most of the alien threats he dealt with were kept mostly under wraps. This made early perception of him positive, and then saved it later on as his popularity dipped. Ultimately, his public image hasn’t recovered from the Luthor Years.

**pangeareunited:**

fascinating read that I think you’ll enjoy @funkyhoroscopes

**kissmyarse-nsaoverlord:**

Let me just add that there’s some really interesting rumors that Superman has travelled off-world. If it is true… it might shed some light on his strained government relations. Because, I mean, is he representing himself, Krypton, humanity or the US whenever he is in contact with off-worlders? Any answer to the question would be problematic..

**iheartdaisyridley:**

this is interesting af and very informative and totally cool but it doesnt advise me on how to resist the ruthless charms of cute caped 8-year-old tycoons. ive bought like twenty boxes of thin mints, someone pplease send HElp

///

Kara is cautiously flying around the city outskirts, taking careful note of how her body feels as she slowly drifts across the skies, when she hears it:

“Supergirl.”

It is the familiarity of the voice what makes the clear uttering stand out amongst the clamoring sounds Kara is currently ignoring. Intrigued, she follows the voice to a familiar row of apartment buildings.

At the roof of one sits Gabby Martinez, legs dangling from the edge, unlit cigarette between her lips, one hand trying to turn on a lighter and the other cupped around it, prepared to protect the flame from the wind. 

“You called?” Kara asks in her Supergirl timbre, even though this girl has seen her both too hurt and too remorseful for her to be able to maintain any pretense of authority.

Which is why she’s a little shocked when the cigarette falls from between startled lips.

“You’re surprised,” Kara needlessly says as both she and Gabby look down at the falling cigarette, not moving until it has hit the ground.

“I didn’t expect you to hear,” Gabby mutters, running a hand through messy bangs.

“I have better hearing than most,” Kara says, sheepishly scratching at her jaw. 

“I had an inkling,” Gabby replies drolly before sighing and rifling through the front pocket of her overalls. 

“Did you now?” Kara teases, nodding when Gabby unearths a cigarette from her clothes and raises it in askance.

“Yeah well, my sister is a fan. Can’t imagine why,” Gabby grumbles, rolling her eyes, the motion familiar enough to Kara that it lets her shoulders relax slightly.

Gingerly, she seats herself next to Gabby as the girl lights her cigarette.

After inhaling a lungful of nicotine and expelling smoke into the air in front of her, Gabby speaks again. “Let me rephrase. I didn’t really expect you to _respond_ ,” she shrugs. “Busy life of a superhero and all.”

(It’s a good point but still, Kara wonders…)

“Then why did you call?”

Gabby mumbles something so garbled into her cigarette that even Kara, with her spectacular hearing, can’t make sense of it.

“Sorry?” she asks.

“I said,” Gabby mumbles more understandably now, “that you haven’t been seen around lately.”

It takes a moment for the words to settle, but once Kara comprehends them she has to push her lips together tightly, smothering the silly delighted smile that would have otherwise stretched across her face.

“You were worried?” she asks instead, sounding a little flustered anyways.

“Yeah well, my sister is a fan,” Gabby repeats, sounding some mix of tender and exasperated.

Kara smiles, touched by the concern. And it’s for that same reason that she lingers, silently looking out into the city from her impromptu perch until Gabby’s cigarette burns itself out, the girl extinguishing the final embers against concrete.

Taking it as her cue to go, Kara stands and gives Gabby a parting smile.

“Have a nice evening,” she murmurs, crouching to prepare for lift-off. 

“Wait!” 

Surprised, Kara stands straight and turns back to the other girl. 

“Would you- um,” Gabby stutters a bit, “if you’re not too busy that is- would you- um, like to stay for dinner? I’m making choripanes.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose,” Kara demurs.

Gabby makes a _pshhtt_ sound, flicking her wrist as if to physically flick off Kara’s refusal. “It’s no imposition. And… well, I have a pretty nice set of new kitchen cabinets that I’ve been meaning to show-off. Helped make them myself you see.”

“I eat a lot,” Kara warns feebly.

“Good,” Gabby shrugs nonchalantly, “I make big portions.”

///

“Do you know what a choripan is?” Gabby asks as she begins rooting inside her fridge.

“I have no idea,” Kara admits, looking around the mostly-repaired apartment. 

The girls must have put up their decorations again now that things are mostly fixed. Kara takes in the scruffy décor: a mix of old sturdy furniture, scraggly-looking plants, a few paintings, and a good number of pictures. Looking a bit closer, she can tell that most of them show some combination of Gabby, Dani, a little beaming boy who must be their brother Emiliano, a beautiful freckled woman who must be their mother, and a tall awkward-looking man who must be their father. 

“Yeah, outside of South America most people really don’t,” Gabby says, interrupting Kara’s nosiness by gesturing at her to come closer. As soon as she’s standing next to the other girl, Gabby shoves tomatoes and lettuce into Kara’s arms. “To the sink please. And ok, so a choripan is basically fast food.”

“Fast food?” Kara parrots back bemusedly, turning on the tap to wash the produce she’s been given.

“ _Delicious_ fast food,” Gabby says, returning from the fridge with armloads of brown bags and shooting Kara a disapproving frown.

“What’s it made of?” Kara asks, curiously looking on as Gabby unbags parsley, more tomatoes, and red chilies. 

“Think sandwich,” Gabby responds, “it’s a thick slice of baguette-like bread coated in chimichurri, with a chorizo cut in half on top, then finely diced tomato and onion on top. Traditionally. In our house we like to play a little wild and add some finely cut lettuce and balsamic vinaigrette on top, without adding the second bread slice that makes it a sandwich.”

“Huh. Is it a family recipe then?” Kara asks, before obediently moving aside at Gabby’s nudge, gently scrubbing a tomato with a bright orange sponge, careful not to squeeze either object too hard now that her powers are back.

“You could say so-” Gabby responds, opening a drawer and taking out a glass cutting table and a very large knife. 

“It’s my step-dad’s recipe,” she clarifies, “he’s Argentinian and used to make it all the time for our cook-outs.” 

“Oh that’s cool,” Kara says. “He taught you?” 

“He did,” Gabby says, quickly chopping some parsley. “It was actually the first way we like, really bonded.”

“That’s adorable,” Kara teases with a grin, finding it easy to imagine a tinier frowning Gabby reluctantly enjoying learning how to cook next to a man that also smiles as if it pained him to do so.

(Long years of practice make it easy to ignore the pang of longing that hits her chest with a buffeting force

Still, she aches)

At the gentle teasing, Gabby ducks her head into one of the brown bags, but not quickly enough to be able to hide the gentle awkward smile on her face.

When she runs out of things to wash, Kara dries her hands on a brightly colored kitchen towel and looks at Gabby consideringly.

“What else can I do?” she asks, leaning a bit against the countertop.

“Um, here,” Gabby slides one of the brown bags and another cutting table towards her, “help me with the chorizos, the sausages. Just cut them in half while I start mixing the paisley and everything for the chimichurri.”

“When did your mom marry your step-father? If you don’t mind me asking,” Kara asks whilst reaching into the bag to pull out the first package of chorizo, thinking on how similar the man in the pictures looks to little Emiliano.

“Mmmm, some ten years ago I think?” Gabby responds distractedly, probably too focused on measuring out dried oregano to berate Kara for her nosiness. “I was twelve,” she elaborates, “my dad had been dead for about four years and so I kinda hated poor Gabriel for a while-”

“Gabriel?” Kara interrupts, unable to help herself. 

“I know I know, Gabby and Gabe,” Gabby rolls her eyes, “surprisingly, you are not the first person to remark on that.”

Kara allows herself a quiet snicker before sobering up.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she says softly.

“No need to be sorry. It is what it is,” Gabby says with a frown, shrugging awkwardly and staring intensely at the garlic she’s chopping.

“Still,” Kara says, turning back to her own knife, bisecting chorizo after chorizo as exact and precisely as she can manage. 

She hears the hesitation in the chopping, the pause. But Kara doesn’t look up, wanting Gabby to have the space to react in whatever manner she chooses to with at least a modicum of privacy.

“Yeah,” Gabby says after a lingering beat, voice hoarse, “ _still_. I guess you never stop missing the people who’re gone huh?”

///

‘Hello. This is Kara Danvers. I am currently unavailable but if you leave your name and contact information, I can get back to you as soon as I can.’

‘Hello Ms. Danvers! I know you recently applied to the _Gazette_ and I hope you don’t mind but Monique forwarded your resume to me. See, we’ve been looking for the ideal candidate to fill one of our positions and I think you’d be a great fit! My name is Ahmira Mojica and I am calling on behalf of the De Souza Rescue Project. We’d love to interview you…’

///

“Here, could you help me light up the grill on the balcony while I get the bread.”

“Sure.”

A zap and coal begins to burn 

“Woah. Niiiice. That must come in handy huh?”

“Occasionally.”

///

“Fuck journalism!”

The sudden shout is accompanied by the sound of the front door being thrown open, the bang startling Gabby from her spot in front of the grill badly enough that the chorizo she’s flipping flies high enough into the air Kara has to float a bit to catch it. 

“Hjjk,” Gabby gasps, one hand over her chest, where Kara can hear the girl’s heart going jackhammer fast.

“I have decided I don’t want to be a journalist anymore,” Dani Martinez primly announces, throwing her school bag onto the scruffy living room sofa in a gentle arc before dragging a chair out to the tiny balcony and sitting on it ankles crossed and hands on lap. “What are you cooking? Hi Supergirl, you look really nice today. I’ve been meaning to ask: does your hair ever look badly windswept or does it just always naturally curl into perfection?”

“Ummmm,” Kara replies, feeling oddly left-footed. Although the disconcerted feeling might be partly influenced by the fact that she’s still floating a few feet above the air, chorizo clutched tight against her chest. 

She lowers herself gently onto the balcony and gingerly puts the chorizo back on the grill, careful to not get too close to Gabby, who is stood frozen, spatula held aloft defensively with one hand and the other still clutching at her chest.

“Ah,” Dani nods sagely, as if Kara had spoken actual words, “natural perfection then. Of course. Please ask me why I’ve decided to quit pursuing a career in journalism and instead seek to become a stripper.”

“Why did you decide to quit pursuing a career in journalism and instead seek to become a stripper?” Kara dutifully asks, prodding at the frozen Gabby with the tip of her boot, sure that she is not qualified to make much sense of whatever answer the girl’s sister decides to give.

“You are not becoming a stripper,” Gabby croaks out, unfreezing from her position enough to kick Kara’s foot away and threatingly point her spatula at the younger sibling. “Mom would kill you, then me. Then you again.”

“True,” Dani acknowledges with a sigh, her impeccable posture melting into a sulky slouch and her, once again, impeccable eyebrows furrowing into a single line. 

Kara takes this moment of de-escalation to let out a relieved breath and return to her own seat by the grill. 

“And I’m making choripanes,” Gabby adds belatedly, “or- well… I guess we,” she gestures between Kara and herself with the spatula, “are making choripanes.”

“I helped a little,” Kara admits when Dani turns curious eyes at her, “you ok?”

“I’m fine, just being dramatic,” Dani dismisses with a flick of her wrist.

“Something happened at school?” Gabby asks, “pass me some plates please.”

Both Dani and Kara reach for the stacked paper plates at the same time and laugh a little when they realize they did so.

“Go ahead,” Dani says smiling brilliantly, “you’ve been the co-chef here.” To her sister she says, “nothing. It was just my professor being an idiot again.” 

“Dani’s professor’s a bit of an arrogant asshole,” Gabby mock-whispers to Kara before adding green chimichurri sauce to some of the now toasted bread. She adds a chorizo, some of the other condiments and then passes the loaded plate over to Kara. It smells delicious, smoky and a little spicy but also sweet and garlicky. 

The first bite confirms it tastes as good as it smells.

“Oh. Wow,” Kara says, “this is fantastic.”

“Glad you liked it Supergirl,” Gabby says with one of her gentle smiles. To her sister she asks, “What did your professor do now?”

“The usual,” Dani grumbles. “Disparaged Cat Grant, called us ignorant and biased, said that the media cherry-picks what issues to latch on, which, he explained, is how the whole white police brutality over black men narrative became popular even though black officers statistically are just as likely to use force against black citizens as their white coworkers, etcetera etcetera.”

“Wow,” Kara says after an awkward pause where they process Dani’s rant, “he seems… wrong.”

“Ugggh,” Dani groans, throwing an arm over her eyes dramatically, “that’s the worst part. He’s not _tooootally_ wrong.”

Gabby nods along.

At Kara’s confused expression Gabby explains, “he’s one of those assholes that takes a good point, or a nice solid fact, and then twists it a bit to fit his logic but you can’t really dispute some of it because there’s always some truth as the basis of his argument and so he can circular logic and straw-man you into conceding his point which only fuels his assholeishness more and so the cycle repeats itself interminably.”

Dani just whimpers in agreement.

“Ah,” Kara pats the girl’s arm lightly, “that’s rough buddy.” 

“Wow,” Dani lifts her arm and raises one of her perfectly symmetrical eyebrows, “You’re a true millennial, aren’t you?”

“Sorry?” Kara asks, confused by the non-sequitur.

“Y’kno…” she makes a weird spinning motion with her arms, “Avatar?”

“The movie?” Kara guesses, still confused by the direction the conversation has taken.

Both Martinez sisters stare back at Kara uncomprehendingly. 

“The,” Dani says, voice a bit weak, “the meme. ‘My girlfriend turned into the moon’?”

“Never mind her Supergirl,” Gabby waves away hurriedly before turning to her sister, “Are you really having doubts about journalism?” 

“I dunno,” Dani shrugs, “I guess sometimes I get frustrated. But if I’m getting frustrated _now_ …” she lapses into meaningful silence.

“Well,” Kara ventures hesitatingly, unsure of how qualified she is to give this sort of advice considering her current… situation. At Dani’s attentive look she continues, “Then ask yourself: do I believe in the work I am doing? Do I find it personally fulfilling?” 

“Am I static?” Gabby adds, flipping a bread slice, “Does my work lead to personal growth?” 

“It,” Dani frowns for a moment, face contemplative, “does. I learn a lot. And I _like_ it, for the most part. And I really think it’s a way to bring some change to the world.”

“Then stick to it,” Kara advises.  

“And if six years down the line,” Gabby says, slowly preparing another choripan, “you decide you hate journalism, then you can change what you do. There are many _many_ ways to help people and change lives which don’t involve shackling yourself to the profession you chose when you were basically still a kid. Its ok to change your mind about your career. Heck, even if you’re 24 or 27 or 30! It’s never too late to pause and reassess what you want to do.” 

“Ugh,” Dani groans, quickly standing up and snatching the newly prepared plate from her sister’s hands, ignoring the latter’s cry of dismay, “stop it with the pep talk. C’mon, help me brainstorm ways to knock my professor down a peg instead.”

“Fuck no you thieving little-”

As the sisters begin bickering in earnest, Kara leans back on her seat, slowly chewing her choripan in thought. Finally, she allows herself to consider the fact that, perhaps, not all is hopeless. That perhaps… she ought to reframe the way she thinks. That her current circumstances are not losses but rather… a change in direction.  

(After all, _punching_ evil was never supposed to be the totality of her efforts)

Hope spreading across her chest, Kara smiles fondly at where Dani holds Gabby in a headlock, suddenly fiercely grateful for these humans. Fiercely grateful for this moment.

Kara allows herself a second to bask in the warmth of the setting sun. A moment to think of Rao.

(Of faith)

Then she steals the choripan from between grappling hands.

“Hey!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q: Are you back to updating regularly?!  
> A: Oh pal. No.  
> Full disclosure? Expect irregular updates, uneven pacing and tone, inconsistent word counts, 22% plot, dangling threads and zero editing/proof-reading.  
> 
> Q: Hey… didn’t that scenario between Gabby and Kara already occur but like between Snapper and Kara in heard them singing for peace?  
> A: Please do not bring to attention my over-reliance/recycling of similar character archetypes, character interactions, and dialogue.


End file.
